One day last week, Gregg came home with bloody lower lip. “What happened? Did someone tried to kiss you?” I asked jokingly. “I had a fight.” “You are kiddin’ me, right?” “It’s true. I punched a guy. I might have broken his cheek bone.”
According to Gregg, when he was driving, a guy dangerously tried to cut him off. To avoid collision Gregg didn’t let him in. The guy jumped out from his car at the stop light and came up to Gregg’s driver’s side and punched his face through open window. So Gregg got mad, parked his car to the side and jumped out. “He was a great big guy who told me to get back to my car within three counts, or else I’ll be sorry. So I punched him good.” “How stupid!Didn’t cop show up?” “Yes, but we decided to split. I never fight unless someone starts. But I’ll fight back!” “You are not a teenager any more! Think about it!”
After scolded by me he was quiet for a while and went up to computer and ordered a CD titled ‘I went right back home to say, I’m sorry.’ He said he wanted to dance with me with this melody. How can I not forgive a guy like him?