Karen looked around the room, hating every person in the little restaurant.
There was no good reason for her hate. Karen didn’t know why she felt this way, why they filled her with such rage, such all-consuming anger. They were just people, eating their food, talking to their friends, laughing and joking or consoling and empathizing.
But all of it, all of this nonsense, filled Karen with ire.
She could do little about it, too. Her date might think her a psychopath if she started yelling, or even voiced her concern about the utter fury she felt towards these co-diners. If he even was a date. And that was another thing, she thought. What is this guy all about? What the hell, semi-maybe-kind-of-date guy? Fuck you and your glass of wine and your questions about my life.
Across the table, Toby waited for an answer, concerned about Karen’s ever-reddening face.