She wished, at this point, that she was a guy.
Guys had it easy, after all. Anyone who had ever seen a romantic comedy knew that all you had to do to win a girl's heart back after a fight or the unwanted breakup was show up outside her window and croon some sappy sweet song, waiting for her to appear in the window a la Romeo and Juliet. Just grab a guitar and go, or, barring that, show up at school or one of her hangouts and play some beautiful music with lots of oohs and aahs and 'nobody said it was easy's.
She wanted to pick up a guitar and run after him. She wanted to wheel an upright piano onto some stage and pour her all her hurt and sorrow out into a heartbroken ballad, on display for the whole damn city to see. She wanted to find the perfect song to say 'I'll still take you back even though that skanky pitysex bootycall you called to pick you up got blood on my carpet after I punched her in the face and broke her nose.'
Yeah, she would have made a better guy, she decided, crouching against the door and rubbing the scratch marks left on her cheek by fake nails. Not that it mattered much now.
"I hope she makes you pay for the hospital bill, you ass," she mumbled quietly.
~~~
A drabble I wrote a while ago. Short, simple, not really related to anything.
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