The Final Blow

I stepped out of Sienna’s house and the door clicked shut behind me like a slap across the face. I walked down the short path to my car fuming in anger. My hands were shaking—actually shaking—the itch to hit someone or something so great that I shoved them deep into my pockets so no one would see, but the tremor stayed.

I have never felt as disrespected as I had been minutes ago. Sienna's lap dog