Broken Glass

I was on the floor, I think I was in and out of sleep while you talked on the phone. One person after the next, making plans for the month you would be home, almost all of your friends were women, which has never been the case.  I sleepily came to, as it seemed you were preparing to leave. I asked a few questions, like "Who are you seeing?"  "When do you leave again?"  "Will we have some time?"  and you answered them quickly, a name I didn't know, a month, of course.
You were putting on your jacket. I knew it was cold out.
We gave eachother a hug as you said goodbye and walked out the door.
I looked at the floor
odd colored broken glass fragments, I wanted to warn you to be careful. I followed you out into the drive way which looked like my Dad's in Minnetonka though it was not his house. It was snowing, dark, the streets were covered and other than the glass in my hand biting into my flesh it was calm and peaceful, cold, biting. You had already driven off with the girl I didn't know.  I decided to text you to be careful, both of the glass and the conditions of the road.
I sent a text, I have no idea what it said, but as I approached the door someone else had gotten home.
They locked it in front of me. I had the key but I was annoyed that they didn't realize I was outside.
The roommate understood but his guest didn't know me, so it seemed like I was barging in and mean.
I was explaining to them about the broken glass when you sent a text back.
It wasn't meant for me,
it was inappropriate, blurry, you were wearing blue underwear, I didn't recognize the guy, but obviously not meant for me.
Then I wondered about the camera angle and realized you hadn't taken the picture.
I was angry, concerned,
I woke up.