Cat Individual

Margot had met Robert at the motion picture theater where she worked part-time amid her final year of college. He was older—much more seasoned, likely in his mid-thirties—but she had been complimented by his consideration. It wasn't that she found him especially alluring, but there was something around the way he looked at her that made her feel seen. He wasn't just like the college folks she as a rule dated, who were continuously more fascinated by their phones than in her. Robert appeared really fascinated by her, inquiring about her favorite books and motion pictures, and tuning in eagerness when she talked.

They began texting after their to begin with assembly. To begin with, it was fun—banter about motion pictures, music, and memes. But as the days went by, Margot found herself feeling progressively on edge. Robert's writings got to be more visited, his compliments more unrestrained. He appeared to be falling for her, difficult and quick, and it was starting to make her awkward. But she didn't know how to tell him to moderate down without harming his sentiments.

One night, after an especially long day at work, Margot concurred to meet Robert for a drink. She wasn't beyond any doubt why she agreed—maybe it was the blame she felt for not being as into him as he appeared to be into her, or possibly it was just the depletion of attempting to keep up the veneer. Either way, she found herself sitting over from him at a faintly lit bar, nursing a gin and tonic and feeling more caught than she'd ever felt some time recently.

Robert was diverse as an individual. He was more unbalanced, more serious. He kept gazing at her with those enormous, puppy-dog eyes, and it made her skin creep. He kept touching her arm, her hand, her knee—little touches that felt like a thousand minor pinpricks. Margot attempted to grin, attempted to keep the discussion light, but she may feel the pressure building interior her like a coiled spring

When Robert proposed they go back to his place, Margot faltered. She didn't need to go, but she didn't know how to say no without hurting him. So she concurred, considering that possibly in case she went alongside it, he would get the indication that she wasn't interested and leave her alone.

But as long as they have to be his flat, Margot knew she had made a botch. The put was little and cluttered, with stacks of books and grimy dishes all over. The discussion notice faintly of ancient pizza and something else—something smelly and unidentifiable. Robert appeared apprehensive, bobbling with his keys and looking at her restlessly. Margot needed to take off, but she felt caught, like a mouse caught in a cat's paw.

Robert advertised her a drink, but she declined, feeling queasy. He sat down following her on the sofa, closer than she would have liked, and began talking almost something—she wasn't truly tuning in. All she may think about was how much she needed to urge out of there.

At that point he kissed her. It was sudden and clumsy, and Margot solidified. She didn't need to kiss him back, but she didn't need to harm his sentiments either. So she let him kiss her, let him thrust her down onto the love seat, let him mishandle her dress. Her intellect went clear, and she drifted over her body, observing the scene unfurl as in the event that it were happening to somebody else.

A short time later, Margot felt empty. She lay there on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling, whereas Robert wheezed delicately next to her. She felt grimy, utilized, and absolutely alone. She didn't get it how she had let things get this distant, how she had let herself be pulled into this web of perplexity and blame.

The following morning, Margot cleared out without saying farewell. She blocked Robert's number, erased his writings, and attempted to disregard the full thing that had ever happened. But the memory of that night waited, chewing at the edges of her awareness like a tireless tingle.

Over the next few weeks, Margot tossed herself into her thoughts, attempting to suffocate out the annoying sense of unease that had settled in her chest. But no matter how difficult she attempted to disregard, the memory of Robert kept inching back into her mind, uninvited and undesirable.

One evening, Margot was sitting within the library, imagining to ponder, when she felt a tap on her bear. She turned around and froze—Robert was standing there, looking down at her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Hey, Margot,” he said delicately. “I've been attempting to reach you. Is everything okay?”

Margot's heart beat in her chest. She constrained a grin, attempting to cover up the freeze rising in her throat. “Oh, hello, Robert. Definitely, everything's fine. I've been really busy.”

Robert gestured, but his eyes limited somewhat, as in the event that he didn't very accept her. “I've missed talking to you,” he said, his voice moody and serious. “I've been considering you a lot.”

Margot felt a cold sweat break out on her temple. She needed to shout, to run, to do anything to be absent from him. But she constrained herself to remain calm, to act ordinary. “Yeah, I've been active with school and stuff,” she said, her voice trembling marginally. “Alas on the off chance that I was not in contact.”

Robert's grin blurred, and his expression darkened. “You do not have to apologize,” he said, his voice dropping indeed lower. “But I'd truly like to see you once more. Can we have a conversation later?”

Margot's intellect dashed. She couldn't think of a way to say no without irritating him, without making things more awful. So she gestured, driving another grin. “Sure, able to have a conversation later,” she said, her voice scarcely over a whisper.

Robert's grin returned, and he came out to touch her arm. Margot recoiled, but he didn't appear to take note. “Great,” he said delicately. “I'll be content with you.”

He turned and strolled absent, clearing out Margot sitting there, trembling with fear and nausea. She felt like she was caught in a bad dream, one she couldn't wake up from. No matter how difficult she attempted, she couldn't shake the feeling that Robert was observing her, holding up for her to let her watch down so he might jump.

Margot knew she was required to do something, to require control of the circumstance some time recently it spiraled indeed out of control. But she didn't know what to do, didn't know how to elude the internet of blame and fear that had wrapped itself around her.

Within the conclusion, Margot chose to take off town for a while, to induce absence from Robert and everything that reminded her of that night. She pressed a sack, booked a transport ticket, and cleared out without telling anybody where she was going. She required space, required time to think, to figure out what had gone off-base and how to form it right.

As the transport pulled absent from the station, Margot felt a sense of help wash over her. She didn't know what long-standing time held, but for the primary time in weeks, she felt like she may breathe once more. She had gotten Robert's handle on, and presently it was up to her to discover her way back to herself.