I’m still frustrated by Alex’s insinuation by the time I’m home.
Once I get to my room, I flop on it with a groan. After airing out some frustrations against the bedspread, I roll onto my back, grumbling, and start looking on Instapost… It would be better to more easily visualize the face of the person I’m angry at.
I access my account, the icon being a doodle of a puppy I’d made at one point. It’s all just art rather than pictures, but Alex and I decided to follow each other anyway.
As I go to click on Alex’s icon of his own face, I see that there’s a recent update from Charlie’s account. My anger subsides, curiosity taking over. Charlie always takes such nice pictures, whether with friends or simply showing off her breakfast.
However, looking at the newest photo just brings back the
