"How can you have so much hope in love when your heart has been shattered more times than I can count?" I asked Christy one night as we lay on the couch, watching the first season of Squid Game.
"Don't forget the mountain of tissues piled in the trash," I added, nudging her.
She laughed, her eyes fixed mechanically on the TV. We barely flinched when the first game started and the players fell to their deaths. It was our thing, probably because we watched so many true crime documentaries.
"It's beautiful."
"Huh?" I blinked at her. Beautiful? If it was so beautiful, why did she cry so hard after every heartbreak, acting as if she couldn't breathe? It was mostly because of her that I waved the word off. Maybe that's why I focused so much on work and barely cried when my ex and I broke up. It's why I could stay as Harry Hulk's secretary and control myself.
