I stood at the door with the key in my hand and the heavy backpack of camera equipment dangling on my shoulders. A part of me wanted to get in and call it a day. The other part, the more resilient one, wanted to turn around and run back to Genevieve. There was always that heavy feeling in my chest that comes whenever I'm not around her. I don't recall experiencing such a feeling before. I banged my head against the frame of the door. I hated feeling so helpless and agitated.
I could hear Claire making noises in the kitchen; she was cooking. She only cooked when she was in a good mood. I thanked the heavens for that. There were a million ways that I could ruin her mood right now. I must be the world's most awful fiancée.
