13 Ash
#13 of Inktober 2019
Getting metaphorical again with the prompt of the day. Yes, I did have someone in mind when I wrote this, and this was rather cathartic to get on paper. No, I won't say who this was referencing; I don't need to reignite things best left behind.
It started with a simple misunderstanding. A few words, poorly chosen at a difficult time. It created a resentment that smoldered, getting just a little hotter with every subsequent misinterpretation of something that, on its own, would be insignificant.
How was I to know you were at the flash point before it was too late?
Another day and another conversation that was seemingly nothing special. I can't even remember what it was about - maybe something vaguely political - when you erupted in a fit of rage. You didn't become violent, thankfully, but you hurled insults and brought up seemingly inconsequential things as if those trivial incidents were actually important or somehow justified your grotesque overreaction. And then, just as quickly as you blew up, you were gone.
Given the benefit of hindsight, I should probably thank you for the way you acted. The more subtle red flags were easy to miss, but such a dramatic self-immolation of righteous fury is unmistakable.
So, really, thank you for burning that bridge until only ash remained. I'm better off with one fewer abuser in my life.