'You are sitting close enough to me that I can see you casually glancing over at me, your eyes feeding on me with a sort of hungry anger, disdain. I can see your lips moving as you glance over again and again and again, but you aren't close enough for me to make out the words you are whispering into her thirsty ear. I feel myself getting hotter, my heart is beating faster as I imagine the hateful things I can't hear. 'she's horrible' 'she's a bitch' 'she's selfish' 'no one wants her here'. I'm. sure you're talking about me'