SEVENTY THREE

‘You’d rather talk things out now than leave them for later’. Calan had said to him, yet he had chosen to leave them for later. Micheal had headed home after Calan insisted that he was risking his bloody life by drinking some more when he intended to drive home. And on Arriving, he had found April on the couch he had left her, and she had stood up in an attempt to walk up to him the very second he stepped in but he hadn’t given her a chance; he had simply averted his gaze from hers and walked away quietly.

Of course, one would think that he’d attempt to talk things out with her by morning, when his mind was clear and when the sky outside was bright and beautiful, however, he had left without saying a word to her, apparently her accusations hurt him more than he knew.

His lectures had been brief but concise today, he had even dismissed the class before the time was up, and he hadn’t even for a second thought to locate the familiar mass of red hair amongst the swarm of students, he