Fight
“Would you stop joking? This is serious, Tommy!” Kate shouted helplessly.
Tommy’s smile collapsed. He sat on her bed in just his boxers, pale hair rumpled and lips chapped.
“It’s like you can’t take anything seriously ever!” continued Kate in frustration, standing over him in her night shirt. “You treat everything as a joke. But all that does is make you look like a joke!”
Tommy was silent, watching her as she felt like ripping her hair out.
“Say something, dammit!” she yelled.
Tommy shrugged. “What’s there to say? You’re right. I’m a joke and I can’t take anything seriously.”
“Oh my god, do you have any self-esteem? Any whatsoever?”
Tommy flinched, eyes downcast.
“And then you wonder why every girl you meet treats you like shit, and why you can’t get anyone to see the good in you. Because you never showthem the good in you!”
Tommy stood quietly, picking up his shirt from the carpet of Kate’s bedroom. He began putting it on.
“Oh, this is great,” Kate said sarcastically. “Now you’re going to get dressed and run like a bat out of hell, because that’s all you’re good at, running away.”
Tommy’s paced quickened and he had pants on, shoes secured, and presence out of the house in a flash.
“Fuck!” Kate swore, turning around and kicking her dresser. She pressed her fists to her forehead, sinking to the floor.