Tangent #2 - Two men pass in the hallway.

Sometimes when I look at him, it makes me angry that he's alive.

Walks around like he's this person no one really knows. Truth is, I know. He told me.

It's not as mysterious as a lot of those women like to think.

It's just that he handles things in a way that I can't - carries it on his sleeve or something.

It's as if he doesn't give a shit if someone hates him or loves him for it.

I mean, damnit, doesn't he have any f-ing pride at all?

Truth is, he's got what I want.

He has it and he already knows it's coming.

I see it coming.

He's going to get it. It'll happen.

And I'm going to hate every single minute of it.