The Breakup

I joined a writers network site. This story is a result of a prompt that basically asked for a breakup dialogue.




It was a cold rainy night.

Cold and rainy...like her heart.

"Your heart is cold and rainy," I told her. How I hated her.

"But...but..." she stammered.

"No buts Amy," I replied.

"Does this mean you're breaking up with me?" she asked, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Don't cry, Amy," I said, wiping her tears with my hair. "You just met me five minutes ago. Don't let it get to you."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I loved you! I loved the way you kissed me. I loved the way you chewed your tomatoes. I loved the way you stroked my face with your nose. I loved how you got so angry and started breaking things every time I beat you in poker!"

"Yeah," I said, a smile forming across my weathered face as I remembered all those good times we had in the past five minutes, kissing, eating tomatoes, playing poker, and being intimate with our noses.

"Doesn't that mean anything to you?" she cried. "I gave up everything to be with you!" Her long brown hair danced in the wind. It was kind of strange, kind of creepy actually, but it made for a nice poetic touch to our breakup.

"Tell me this," I said to her, posing a clever question. "If I was not a handsome brute, if my pectorals did not dance, if my beautiful toned thighs were not as big as the cedars of lebanon, would you still have taken a chance on me?"

"Well, no," she responded.

I had my answer. With that in mind, I turned my back on her, kicked her cat, smashed the windshield of her car with my face, and stormed off.