“It’s impossible,” he insisted, turning his back on me.
I took the opportunity to roll my eyes before glaring at the back of his head. If only looks could kill…
“It’s not impossible. You’re just being impossible,” I pointed out, surprised at how calm my voice sounded.
He spun towards me and advanced.
“I’m impossible? Me?” He laughed at me. “You’re the one not opening your eyes!”
“Last time I checked, they are open. Oh, wait for it. There, I blinked for not even a second,” I declared, making sure I fiercely insinuated the sarcasm.
“You know precisely what I mean,” he continued, raising his voice as he continued to step closer to me, trying to intimidate me. “You are never, ever going to be a writer. Grow up!”
“I will become a writer. You can’t crush all of my dreams.”
“You’re never going to be a writer,” he yelled adamantly.
I uncrossed my arms, leaned a little closer to him, and whispered for effect.