top of page

Carla Martinez

Smiley Faces

Six days without them, you were a wreck but what else would you have expected, except the idea that she accused you for the most typical thing. A cheating liar, she accused over and over with no particular course of action. For not many people being in your shoes, you could only assume that they didn’t know how you felt, but the thing is, they did. You lie on the ground of your apartment floor, arguing inside your head about what were the possible reasons to why or what had happened to end things so fast. Then again nothing comes to mind, but emptiness and a random question: would your heart sound different when you feel heartbroken? That doesn’t make sense, you answer. You exhale a long breath you held subconsciously, hearing the sound of a little bell jingle down the hallway. Following along the sound, paws were heard as well walking on the glossed, dark cherry hardwood floor.

Lucky, came walking towards you, his mouth revealing a little pink tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with excitement and curiosity. He tilts his head side to side, golden hair shaking back and forth as he does so. Finding Lucky adorable, you automatically feel your change in spirits uprise to a fulfilling mood to a point your not frowning but smiling. Looking back at the dog still staring at you with a glint in his eyes, you feel your smile turn into a content grin, he looks at you for a few seconds longer before running into your lap, once you sat upwards. The soft stroking of his hair sends him to close his big green eyes and roll over onto his back, letting you to continue.

“Will get through this, Lucky.” you say grabbing his paws, patting his stomach. In response he seems to have a smile that spreads wide.

The presence of your odd emotions creeping into your head, makes you wonder to when she still lived in the memories of yours. That always seemed to exist with happy, lively times that she might have purposely destroyed with the lies fed to her. Many times you would think this is the time where she’ll be the one to share a life with but it didn’t reach that point six days ago.

Still stroking the head of Lucky, he suddenly jumps from your lap, making you suddenly curious of his actions. You watch him run from room to room in a happy state of mind, his tail wiggled and wagged. Finally seeing him calm down for a solid five seconds, he runs to the front door in which you follow to suddenly hear a knock on the door, as you stood with furrowed eyebrows. Reaching the handle with slight hesitation, beads of sweat make way onto your forehead, creating the situation to increase the intensity of curiousness. You open the door to reveal her, Nyla the accuser of everything you do, holding a bouquet of lovely assorted flowers and that smile that brighten your day but now? It was something unsatisfying. The grinding of your teeth, begins to earn you a headache, but at this point you didn’t even care to acknowledge the pain making way to your head. She wouldn’t stop smiling, a smile with distastefulness and evilness, you don’t what her next move was to be and instead you scold her for the moments you remain with this person, you’ve grown to strongly dislike.

“I won’t say, I missed you.” you then speak, getting annoyed quicker than you thought; the truth hurt a lot when it was spoken. Watching as she fiddles with the stems of the flowers she holds, her eyes begin to water, a pool of tears ready to slip from her amber irises. That’s strange to see the girl who knocked on your door with a smile then turn into a near complete mess, she remained standing in the hallway.

“It’d be easier if you would admit your doings.” she replies, looking to Lucky who sat, head tilted, tail wagging slightly. She looks back at me, finally the tear that threatened to fall earlier, finally escapes, still holding on to the flowers she gestures it more outwards for your reach, hesitantly you grab the bouquet. Letting the door swing wide enough for her to enter, you walk into the kitchen, she comes in beginning to sniff, what you could only imagine a runny nose from holding in her crying. The door clicks shut, she then hugs herself walking towards the kitchen counter, head bent downward in shame it seems. “You didn’t answer me.” she says, making you scoff at her attempt in a hint of demand to answer, you then do answer.

“What’s there to say, Nyla? Obviously we’re through, so why come all the way here and fuss about your doings on, me?” you respond, putting the flowers given to you into the sink, frustrated.

Pathetically she looks up slowly and walks to you, placing her hand on your arm for a sense of comfort, but it didn’t feel right or the way it was safe as before. Pushing her hand away, the cries that were silent from her exchanges with anger she secretly tries to hide, you could see right through her. She became an open book, from the time spent apart, she lost the vulnerability she always upholded, you guessed that people do change.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this right now,” you say, watching her face turn red, was it from crying or the anger she continues to build? You knew it wasn’t your fault to be the start of this, you actually wanted nothing that dealt with this. In particular the break-up that ended dramatically and so typical, you could just think that of all this time you spent getting hurt, you could have been living a better life. “Just get your stuff, you think was left behind and you know where the door is at.”

“Where’re you leaving to? We need to talk about our situation.” Nyla says, but you don’t turn to acknowledge what she said, but have Lucky walk out the door with you. Clearly out of the building you begin to sigh, stuffing your hands into your pockets, you didn’t know where you were going but you knew you had to get away from her. Lucky walked beside you.


Carla Martinez lives in the hot state of New Mexico and writing is what she includes as a hobby she loves doing. She has two siblings and is the eldest. She currently attends high school and was selected to attend the CUUB Program for six weeks in Boulder, Colorado.

Recent Posts

See All

Miles Cayman

Ø I think your name is less like itself is more like your middle name and most like the way you've held your pencil ever since you practiced cursive, and the ridge of callus precisely on your finger t

Javeria Hasnain

I ONLY CAME TO SEE GOD on the altar. When all the guests had left, & the smell of tuna had wafted far off into the ocean from where it came. No one truly knows. I waited for you, even though I knew yo

bottom of page