April 23, 2025
By: Greg Lawson

It started simple enough—just a glance across the craps table, catching the gleam of her nails in the dim casino light. Long, polished, and almost blinding under the neon signs. It was like they were a beacon pulling me in. I didn’t even know her name yet, but I was already intrigued.

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and she laughed like a melody. So, I bought her a drink. One drink. That’s how it always starts, right?

She told me she was visiting from out of town, staying at one of the luxury hotels, and we started talking. The conversation flowed. It wasn’t anything special, but I was drawn in by her energy. You know that feeling, right? The one where you start ignoring the little things—like the way she kept looking over her shoulder every few minutes or how she constantly checked her phone with a nervous jitter.

I should’ve taken the hint when she mentioned her “crazy ex” in a tone that suggested he might’ve been the sane one of the two. But instead, I offered her a ride back to my place.

That was mistake number one.

Mistake number two? Letting her stay for the night.

At first, it wasn’t anything major. She was charming in that way that only someone with an agenda can be. She made me laugh, we talked about things that didn’t matter, and before I knew it, a couple of days had gone by.

But then, the cracks started to show. She would burst into laughter at the strangest times, like she was on the edge of some private joke I wasn’t in on. She’d disappear into the bathroom for what seemed like hours, and when she came out, her eyes were too wide, too glossy. And every now and then, she’d drop a comment that was just… off. Like she was playing a game of chess while I was still stuck on checkers. “You’d be so much better if you just listened to me, you know,” she’d say, out of nowhere.

It wasn’t long before I realized I was dealing with someone who could switch from sweet to cold in a heartbeat. One minute, we’d be on the couch watching TV, and the next, she was yelling at me over something as simple as how I put the dishes away.

I tried to ignore it at first, but the little things started building up. The random calls from blocked numbers, the way she would snap if I even looked at my phone. And then there was the night I came home to find her sitting on the floor in the dark, crying, with no explanation. It was like trying to navigate a minefield, never knowing which step would set her off.

That’s when I knew. This was more than just a bad decision—it was a disaster in the making.

I told her she had to go. I couldn’t keep lying to myself anymore.

She left without a word, but I saw her eyes—the kind of eyes that could burn you if you weren’t careful. As she walked out the door, I felt relief and fear in the same breath.

And as for me? I learned that sometimes the red flags are there for a reason. I just wish I’d been smart enough to see them before they became a storm I couldn’t outrun.