Re: log: dietre a. & misha b.
He had been trying to be understanding, trying to behave, be civil, be selfless. But it didn’t work. Dietre stared uncomprehendingly as Misha gave him his speech, though it wasn’t until the other boy turned away from him that his words sunk in. “Misha, that’s not--” But Misha was already at out the door, leaving.
Dietre was too stunned to move at first. He had been left here. Abandoned. Over a sigh. He expected guilt, but what rose in him was anger. Through a haze he picked the card up from the shelf, squeezing it like he did the handle of his shopping bag, letting the plastic bite into his palms, lines of red pain. Dull fury pounded in his temples.
Sieglinde rescued him with a soft whine and a touch of a cold wet nose. “Mach dir keine Sorgen…” Reassurance spoken in a thick voice, followed by a gentle stroke. Only his dog seemed to understand him, only she loved him. What was the point in anyone else? He would carry on with his shopping, but he would not use the card. He didn’t need Misha’s money-- Damian’s money. Anything else he bought was purchased from his own pocket.
And so the day passed, just another mishap in a series of disasters. He was getting used to it.