How my weekend started.

I saw an ex-girlfriend in town yesterday, the most serious one I’d had. She asked me about my hand like so many other people, and also about the pup that her sister had seen. She stood there waiting wanting to say something or wanting me to say something, but I said nothing. I knew what she wanted, but I didn’t. She’d fucked someone else while I was with her, and hadn’t I just seen her leaning over close talking to some guy as I drove past taking a group to the airport? No, not again. There were other girls waiting, and it seemed like there would always be, which is why I didn’t care. There had been one girl, but I had been the fool, not fooled, just a fool, and what a fool. The owner of the plane I had crash landed in the day before wanted to hook me up with some girl in the city, but I knew what kind of girl it would be, and I wasn’t interested, though we had a common interest in killing that damn pilot.
Last night a friend told me she loved me, though she’s Brazilian, and they say things like that, not to mention she’s an actress, and you never can tell with that type. Even if it was more serious than playful, what did it matter? We didn’t know each other well, so how could she know? I ignored it, and said good bye as she was leaving.
Today my hand hurts even more. That fall didn’t help as I was chasing the pup. I had to change the bandage I wasn’t supposed to take off for another 2 days. Blood ran out of the freshly broken open wound, but none of the stitches had come out, and it looked like it was healing well, despite the reinjury, and there were no signs of infection like we had feared because it had been a deep wound filled with dirt that had to be cleaned out. I took another amoxicillin with my coffee and went to look for some ibuprofen.