I later learned you weren’t simply drunk.
Certainly, you were drunk. Slurring, staggering to your car, lurching into the parking lot, rear-ending the parked car across from you.
But more than just drunk.
You were also, it turned out, a paranoid-schizophrenic with a history of violence and a lengthy arrest record. Who’d recently gone off your meds.
It turns out when you leaned uncomfortably close and threatened to take my eyes, you’d probably meant it.
The police car left the parking lot, you in the backseat, I watched after, my world a little more claustrophobic.
Hope you enjoyed your omelette.