By: Ed Dzitko
“I think we’re done,” he said.
She stared hard at his face, unsure she’d heard right. “W-what? Are you serious?”
“We beat each other up over everything,” he said, unable to hide the pain in his deep, blue eyes, the ones she loved to swim in. He didn’t want to be mean, to hurt her. “We talk about it, we seem to move on, and then, bam, and, again…”
“It’s how…,” she was downing, “the way I process things.”
“Well, you’d better try another way, or you’re going to be alone a long time.” And with that, he was off.