The Gypsy, the Lovers, and the Ex

While a part of you thinks that doing something like this to a person would take considerable amounts of time and planning, you can’t shake the feeling that something happened yesterday, something that will lead you to the source of it all.

“It might be the tip of the iceberg,” you whisper to yourself as you begin to make your way towards Main Street, which is but a couple of blocks from your street, “but it’s as good enough of a place to start as any.”

As you cross a fairly empty road and skip on to the sidewalk that will carry you straight to the heart of town, your eyes never leave your phone. Your thumb hovers between your Contacts icon and your Photo Gallery icon, both of which containing ample records of the day before. The only question now, is to pick which path to take first.

The old gypsy’s herbal store is not even two blocks from where you are right now. You’ve never been a believer in magic- but after the old lady’s ominous comments to you as you passed by her little tent during the Festival, and particularly after getting a good long view at your transformed body, you’re willing to give the cosmos the benefit of the doubt. Well, for the next two days at least. She might be helpful. Then again, she might be the one who did this…

Then there’s your friends’ Alison and Trevor’s public fight. It was about as epic of a break-up as you’ve ever witnessed. They fight. They fight a lot, in fact. They are the quintessential star football player and prom queen coupling. Both are still seniors in high school, he being the stubborn lady’s man that can’t see the forest through the trees, and she being the blonde bombshell that tries way too damned hard to be like all the reality-TV starring, richer-than-God, forever partying debutants that litter every gossip rag in the country. The point being, as you always remind yourself after their spats, is that while they are vinegar and water, the amusing social politics of high school keeps them coming back together. Yesterday was their fifth break-up, and as sure as the sun rises, by next week they will be back together.

There is only one teensy, tiny problem. The pictures saved on your phone involving them were taken… after… their break-up. They were taken during your jaunt to the old silo just outside of town with your circle of friends last night for an impromptu kegger. Though things got a little foggy towards the end of the night, your mind still conjures glimpses of the things that went on when the **** began to flow. And if those peeks are a taste of what’s inside your photo gallery, you’re pretty sure the guilt you already feel is only going to be magnified. However, the fact remains is that some very unusual things happened during the whole slideshow waiting to be opened in your hands. Chances are very good that something happened there. Somebody might have seen what you did…

Then there’s Brie, your ex. Her message still baffles you. Why did she pick yesterday of all days to text you out of the blue? Why did she say she was sorry now when that word never even came close to entering her vocabulary when you caught her sucking that guy’s face. And seriously… why did she say ‘I need your help’? A part of you hated her to her very core for what she did to you, but… there still seemed to be some of that old romantic sap in you that still cared for her. Her plea struck a chord, and you immediately wondered what kind of trouble she was in.

Your father once told you to never believe in coincidences. And her showing back up in your life the day before someone did this to you… well, it had to mean something, didn’t it?

“What to do, what to do…” you say as you look up from your phone. Main Street is rapidly growing in the distance.