When Rachel stalked away from Ean, she was angry. By the time she reached her car, however, she wasn’t.
Rachel got into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the car. She gripped the steering wheel and trembled, caught up in old memories and older emotions. Slapping Ean had surprised her as much as it had him.
“Damn,” she whispered. She sunk forward until her head rested on the steering wheel. Then she took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. “I think you just took something some other guy did to you years ago, and took it out on Ean,” she told herself. “Way to go, me.”
She took another deep breath, and then straightened. She started the car, and then went back to work. She still had half of her lunch break left – and her laptop had Army Shooter on it.
Somehow, at this point, twenty minutes of shooting people in their virtual proxies seemed like a good idea.