I calmly close the door of my room, taking care not to slam it. I’m not a fan of taking my anger out on things or people.

And I’m still not done processing.

So, let’s do a recap, shall we?

Lucinda just conned me out of my magical knowledge and ran away on the first occasion without even facing me. Yeah, that sums it up.

My body spasms in anger, making me twist a little.

“Goddamn,” I whisper as my face writhes in anger.

How could I be so blind?

Taking a deep breath, I lay down on the bed.

I think my biggest mistake has been moving things too fast. I should have just waited to make sure her feelings were real. But no, I have to force myself to believe that most people don’t have ulterior motives and just act nice.

Well, it’s all on me, I admit.

There’s really not much more I can say.

I was blind, stupid, and I trusted her.

Plus, I wanted to impress Lucinda, to have her look at me with her jaw slack.

Now, all that love is turning into a lake of jet-black anger.

I don’t resent Lucinda. No, it’s bigger than that.

I resent life.

She’s just playing the game, being the person she needs to be to win this rat race.

So…

So what?

What’s up now?

What do I do?

Revenge is not my style, that’s for sure.

I have no intention of mingling with her again.

Do I need an explanation from her?

No. I might be an idiot, but not that much of an idiot.

She took advantage of me, plain and simple.

I mean, should I make an effort to quantify my stupidity? Should I make a scale from one to ‘young whippersnapper’?

Lying on my bed, I start drifting in my own stream of consciousness.

See, I get angry in weird ways.

Something in my psyche makes me go full-mad when someone mentions my mother. I don’t know why. It’s just there. It’s like a hair-trigger. I can’t do much to prevent that.

This brand of anger, though, is different. Why? Well, the worst is that I did see this coming. I mean, I could have expected it. So, I’m not shocked. I’m disappointed. My head loves making up different scenarios where I fail, where I get betrayed, and so on. I mean, I am unlucky. And a part of me is always on the ‘better safe than sorry’ train.

And I hate it.

How the hell do people in very competitive jobs even enjoy life? How do you go on with your day if you have to constantly look over your shoulder, knowing that the next person could stab you right after smiling at you? What kind of dreadful life is that?

I remember this woman I went out with. She was a bit older than me and working at a law firm. Yeah, yeah. Why did I date so many girls in the law business? Well, they have that domineering aura about them. If you know, you know. Trust me.

Anyway, once she told me something that stuck with me for life.

It was something along these lines:

“You know, when I started working in the firm, I was truly terrified. I imagined all the ways they would exploit us, treat us like slaves, and God only knows what. But then, nine out of ten people turned out to be so nice. I mean, not nice as in ‘kindergarten-teacher nice’ but much better than I even dared to think. And you know what? I realized I was expecting them to treat me like nothing because that’s how I would have acted.”

When I proceeded to ask if she had learned her lesson and started treating people better, I just got a big laugh as a response. She was extremely proud of being known as ‘the bitch’ of the office.

Pure madness.

Maybe I should just remain celibate for the rest of my—

Yeah, no. I’m not doing that.

I hear a knocking sound.

“Joey, would you mind if I came in?” Stan’s voice came through the wooden door.

“Sure, Stanimal.”

I prop myself up on the bed with my hands.

“Young lovers often do foolish things,” he says while Grigio jumps on my bed, instantly occupying the vast majority of it. “Bitterness is natural.”

“Yo, Stanimal. I’m not bitter. I mean, maybe a little. But I’m mostly clueless. I try to trust people all the time. Man, for all I know, you could murder me in my sleep, right? Instead, I chose to trust you. But what happens when someone does stab me in the back after I trusted the wrong person?”

The old man crouches down to Grigio, patting the dog with a weary expression. For some reason, Stan looks much older than usual at this moment.

“You just choose who to trust. It’s that simple. You can’t trust everyone. But you also can’t trust no one. I could have chosen not to trust you. But I did. And I’ve yet to be disappointed with the young man in front of me.”

I give Stan a long look.

“I have to be honest, I was expecting more wisdom, Stanimal. More cool words. I don’t know, something like ‘catharsis’? Maybe ‘resilient’? I’ll have to give a four out of ten to your speech. Maybe even a three.”

The old man responds with a hearty laugh.

“Better be angry with this old bag of bones than with your young lover, Joey. She was a fool. But now, why don’t you go down? I prepared a surprise for you.”

“Is it a stripper?” I say, perking up.

“A what?” the old man looks confused.

“A female who strips for you and dances on your lap?”

“Oh, no. I just called Flaminia, Camilla, and Lucillus.”

“Meh, Stanimal. Two out of ten. Really.”

I wink at him and go down.

Thank you, Stanimal.

Thank you.