Ryan spoke with his head to the dusty ground, “One day you'll hate me.” Claire stopped like she'd taken a bullet to the guts.
“Why would you say such a thing? I love you. I can't live without you.” Ryan raised his eyes to meet hers, so she would know he wasn't messing.
“It's what happens to great love when the expectations are too high. We'll be fine for a while, then the monotony of working life and kids will set in. I won't bring you flowers anymore. I'll forget our anniversary. Your friends will have nicer homes and fancier vacations. I won't be exciting, I'll be boring. Boring because I'm so damn tired.” Claire's face had lost what little colour it had had.
“Damn you, Ryan. That's nothing more than a lousy excuse not to try. Or maybe you just don't love me?!” Her eyes washed with the kind of tears that only come when people break in ways not easily repaired. But when she met his gaze his were just the same. He did love her. So what was all this nonsense about hate?
Casey looked at her ideas list again. How could she have been so dumb? Why had they seemed so good last night only to be full of flaws by morning. They would never work! As her mind span it's usual carousel of reasons she would never amount to anything, she pulled out her uniform to check it for fryer grease. There were some spots but it was good enough. Any one of her ideas would take years to build around her full-time work, years of sacrifice, and then what? Then she'd have one more failure to add to her nonexistent resume. No way. She took her list and tossed it in the recycling bag. "No more stupid ideas," she told herself. "You're nothing special, so why even try?" She pulled her blonde hair back into a tight pony-tail and applied her make-up. A pretty girl stared back, a girl with the intelligence to be a professional writer, a computer programmer, an entrepreneur; but all she saw was someone ordinary, incapable and worthless.
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