I could feel her bold, piercing stare from across the room, her dark brown eyes ablaze. Ears smoking, she fumed like an irritable bull being teased with red cloth. Sam was clutching a single chicken strip, her nimble fingers curled around it securely. She sighed deeply, and the booming sound echoed in my ears, accompanied by a shiver that slowly creeped up my spine. Her appearance was in disarray: cheeks blazing, hair astray, yesterday’s mascara smudged carelessly under her vehement eyes. She walked briskly over to where I was sitting, and I could feel the hot sweat trickle down my aching neck; I could tell by the way she placed her steady hand on my shoulder that she was compassionless to my pleas. She cleared her throat, and the rasp in her breath shuddered from the screaming that had taken place the day before. I looked up in her eyes, an apology on my mournful gaze. Her head shook with finality, and with tears decorating both of our heated cheeks I decided that this was the last time.