I stare at him. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
He nods like that’s reasonable. “You probably should eat something.”
“I did eat that vegan chicken patty ting.”
He laughs. “That’s notrealfood.”
“It isrealfood.”
“No babes. That’s paper-mache.”
“Shut up.”
The artist clears his throat politely. “Alright, mate. I need ten more minutes.”
Jabari nods then looks at me and gestures towards the couch in the room.
I sit, and watch. He finishes the tattoo session and walks out after, forearm wrapped.
We step outside and the air feels different. We grab something warm to drink from a corner shop and sit for a bit. We actually sit. Like normal people.
We talk about my email from Elliot and I express my genuine excitement.
When my phone buzzes again, I expect it to be another email from El with details of the project.
Instead, it was Za.
I open it and my stomach drops.
Za : come over for your stuff.
Just like that.
The warmth drains out of me.
Jabari sees my face. “What?”
“She wants me to come collect my things.”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
He didn’t push for more. Just a quiet acceptance that something is about to shift.
Then we go.
The flat is quietwhen we get there.
I expect her to be sitting on the couch waiting to make me bleed again. I expect a confrontation. I expect closure.
But she’s not there.
My things are packed neatly by the door.
Folded. Stacked. Labelled.
A part of me feels sick. Another part of me feels relieved.
Like the universe finally stopped dangling the decision in front of me and chose for all of us.
