6

The face that materialised before me was immediately as familiar as it was jarring. For a moment I struggled to place him, staring in a way that I was taught not to as a little girl. He was staring as well, his weak chin failing to support a slightly open, wet mouth. Suddenly, his mouth firmed.
"Oh, hi Carrie," he said sullenly.
I stared for another moment before the voice made it click. "Stanley," I said, the sound of realisation too heavy in the word. "So, uh, how are you?"
He looked at me, the watery paleness of his eyes attempting to burn through me, but instead leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling of dampness. "How do you think?" he said sarcastically.
I looked around us and saw what he meant. "Well, yeah okay. How's the family?" I asked lamely.
"Why would you care? You never wanted to meet them anyway," he replied.
"I...look, it was a long time ago Stanley. It would never have worked anyway, I was too young, and you were too..." I paused, trying to find a definitive but kind adjective.
"Ugly?" he snarled bitterly. I hoped he hadn't developed the ability to read minds.
"No, no, just, you know, intense. Could we just get on with things?" I said, cringing with the discomfort of the situation.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do you need bags?"
"No, thanks, I've got my own," I said, brandishing them.
"Whatever," he said, looking down and beginning to scan my shopping through.