Unknown to her, there Dale sat, all alone, in the basement of his parent's house. A dying flashlight laid strewn carelessly to his right on the cold, hard concrete floor. His shoes had been tossed about in front of his position, and his bare feet brushed almost casually amongst the dirt and dead bugs. Dale's disheveled hair gave away his prior position: head in hands, light tears streaming down his face, trying to rub the "sissiness" out of his eyes.
His father would be so proud.
Lauren had not come over that night with the intention of breaking his heart. However with her swift and embarrasses departure, so went his feelings for her, and for love in general. The caller ID does not lie, and when that phone sounded, so crisp and truthful in the dark of the basement, the pain of their past came rushing back to the present. His name popped up. He was not supposed to be listed in the contacts list in the fist place. When Dale answered soundlessly, Lauren's "ex"-boyfriend asked when she was coming over - expecting to hear his love affair's voice on the other end.
Instead what he got was a loud explosion of heart break and anger, followed by the sound of a breaking phone - and heart.
Lauren had nothing to say. She swiftly scurried to the exit as gracefully as she could, almost tripping on her dress from Mardi Gras Masquerade. They had been in the basement on a scavenger hunt after he party.
Well, they certainly didn't find what they were looking for.
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