She was finally moving forward. Sadly, unbeknownst to either of the parties involved, the world would soon be coming to an abrupt metaphorical end for both. Our two main antagonists hated the thought of being near each other. Ever since the breakup, it didn’t make sense for everyone to just exist to please the other. They both became bitter. They sat and marinated in the hatred they had for one another, as they had done for years prior to the final decision. She wasn’t happy. He gave off the vibe of maybe being able to find pleasure in the pointless sex he was having on the nightly. He began to drink. She did the same.
Sometimes when he got lonely, he would call up the local whore down the street named Charlishe. He would not have sex. He would just sit there and cry about the end of an era for him. She cared very little. She got a cool five-hundred. She left. When his ex-lover got lonely, she would sit next to the phone and contemplate calling him up. She wanted an argument. She always felt comfort in being able to find one very easy with him. Hell, they didn’t even drink then. What was she thinking? Not much as it seemed, as she was already with the phone off the hook, dialing the number into her old rotary phone. She threw the phone to the floor. She sunk to her knees. She sobbed.
He had enough of this. She had had her share of misery. He got up off the floor. She dusted herself off and walked toward her door. There was a knock. She hesitated but opened it. Her face lit up in shock as she saw her lover. Disgusting, sad, lonely, tears still wet on his face.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, her breath quickening.
“To say something I should have a long time ago.” He stated, chocking back the tears that were behind his bloodshot, frantic, dilated eyes.
“Say it!” She said, her voice shaking with passion.
“LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME YOU SLUT!”
He punched her in the nose. Blood fell out instantly. She fell out too. He smiled. Finally resolute.