A CONVERSATION BETWEEN A NARRATOR AND HIS SOON-TO-BE-EX-GIRLFRIEND: He rushed in, barely late, but she had already taken a table and summoned a drink. He slid in across from her and braced himself.
She had been preparing her speech for some time now, he could see that, so he spoke first, to unbalance her. "I know," he said.
Her eyes narrowed. "I just can't count on you," she said.
"Christ, I know," he sighed.
She measured her words, paying them out slowly. "You said you'd be different."
He rolled his eyes.
A moment later, she glanced at him -- undetected, she thought -- as he left. Now it's a pattern, she thought. Three in a row.
And then she was lonely and bitter for the rest of her sad, small life.
