“The Video Phone”
She can sense him there on the other end of the feed, not picking up, pretending he’s not home… too cowardly to face her, to explain himself.
Sitting in his dark, dirty, pathetic apartment, just staring at her flashing pixelated image as the shrill ringing fills his tiny room… She doesn’t care how long it takes, she’s going to make him deal with this. He has to stare at her face on the video phone, and know she’s not defeated. And he will feel that shame, and he will know. He’ll know.
All of the lies, the secrets, he can’t just hide from it. His excuses, the flimsy rationalization… he can fool himself with that nonsense, but she won’t give him that satisfaction. He doesn’t get to have that.
She knows he’s there, staring at her, trying to think up some new lie to spin. Some way to get out of this.
The feed disconnects once more, and her reflection looks back at her upon the dark, empty monitor. Waiting just long enough so he can think it’s over, she types in his number, stares back at the screen, and calls again.
(Gif’d by the Spectacular Fatma of Fatmalovestodraw!)
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