He said I know

I tell him by message. Not a call. I cannot say it out loud.
He writes back in fourteen minutes. Two words. I know.
That is worse than being mad. I was trying to be brave. He takes that from me.
Then one more. Thank you for telling me.
I do not write back. I still have not. I keep typing the dots. I keep stopping.
The man in the Baixa is kind to me tonight. I tell him I am going. He does not shout. He asks if I have eaten.
Kindness is so much harder than anger. I know how to carry anger. I do not know how to carry that.
I do not know if I am running to something or from it. I will not let myself answer.
I am scared. I do not write that down a lot.