Dollar Signs: Do You Only See My Money?

s bre

t he could actually be that much of a jerk. Then agai

ink he’s different. Jus

ves me

y to do it privately. But no. They always seem to pick the best restaurant in the most affluent part of the city, the most expensive dish

lways leave me with the bill. Every time. It’s like t

intentions of letting him know that I’m hurt; my shoulders tense, my breath c

And it’s not like he’d actually tell me the truth, people rarely do that. It doesn’t really matte

serious. He doesn’t realise how absurd he sounds. Th

. I can’t react. I can’t scream at him like a banshee though it’s tempting. I

be plastered all

se. You can j

h instead of saying what I want to

’t believe he’s doing this. I thought we were serious. I even introduced him to my grandma

eal promises that I

posed to b

most efficient person I’ve ever met. He’ll have everything resolved before the end of the night. And I

ould be reasona

ition of the word reasonable. I consider educating him on the matter but really what would that achieve. I’d

together,” he carries on. “We

knows exactly what he wants to say but he’s

ought this would be fun.

I thought you

. Maybe someone else altogether? Or maybe they’re just bl

ave but his eyes go wide with pa

r the table before striding across the restaura

s lasted almost two years. Just ten minutes. That seems insane. I can feel tears lining my lashes but I bru

ay back when I’d foolishly thought you could buy friendships. At

arned to buy things they don’t want

sson. Here I am in a restaurant I hate, eating food I can’t stand to

he waitress thanks me and I almost tell her that I won’t be back but I can’t

I drop a twenty

reply. “The foo

I can before leaving the warmth of the restau