Fools

When I see you, you’re different. Your eyes light up like the constellations we admire on the rooftop of our boarding school. A rosy flush is brought to your cheeks whenever you mention his name, and the once intelligent conversations we once held now turn into you stumbling over your words, unable to form proper sentences or say anything without sighing.

I’m happy for you. I truly am. You seem happy. He, well, I have my own opinions of him that you won’t want to hear about. You’ll probably tell me off for thinking such things and say something about how I should think better of people. I’m not like you. I can’t think the best of everyone. There are a lot of shady, untrustworthy people out there. Unfortunately, I think he is one of them.

I have hunches about him. Nothing concrete, nothing to solidify what I’m thinking, but my gut feeling says that he’s not to be trusted. I always trust my gut feeling. It never leads me astray.

You used to trust my gut feeling too. Until you met him.