Her words were swift and decisive, and they cut right to his heart. If he had one, he mused, knowing that such metaphysical ideas didn’t really exist for him anymore. What was a heart anyway, when his organ was plagued with constant pains so often that he might as well turn the whole thing off?
“We should break up.”
She had never said that before, had never even hinted that there was a problem. He had thought they had been perfectly happy—no, at least content, with one another. They ate their meals together and he took her to a movie every couple of weeks. Sex was every Friday night, and they texted each other regularly. She nicknamed him Darling~<3 on her phone and he had her saved as Babe.
That was what a relationship was, after all, right?
What more could a person ask of him anyway?
She was about to tell him, it seemed.
“We never had anything in common,” she said, her gaze not meeting his. Something about the way she tucked a strand of dyed red hair behind her ear already felt aloof. It was as if she had already rehearsed this ending, practiced saying the words with absolute finality, listed all the reasons in her head. All without yet saying a word, until now. “I like books, yet you like…” She trailed off, apparently not being able to find a hobby to list.
She pursed her lips. Her boyfriend never really did anything with all his spare time out of classes. Now that he had graduated last spring, the time feast compared to her time famine was even more glaring. She wanted to be charitable now, that all their good times (and pretty mediocre) times were coming to a definite conclusion, but her words failed her.
Computers. That was right. He liked those, didn’t he? But he had never done anything with his passion for constantly trading a model of a phone or laptop off for an “upgrade,” which really was an euphemism for trading a quarter for two dimes. He had failed out being a computer science major, and no major tech company wanted to hire him. Nor was he even able to fix her brand new printer that was missing a cable. His hobby of making YouTube videos, that had gone nowhere, too.
She let the sentence die halfway on her lips, not bothering to finish it. It was better off left unsaid.
His eyes widened. That was her excuse? It seemed so flimsy, so irrational in light of all the cozy nights they had spent together and romantic movies they had seen. Weren’t they in love? Did that mean nothing to her now?
“I just…” She struggled with the words now, knowing how they sounded. “Need to find someone with more in common with me. Someone who will actually read the drafts I write and help critique them, without mocking me. Someone who doesn’t…” She bit off the end of her sentence. Someone who doesn’t speak and write with terrible grammar, she finished in her head.
“Please understand,” she said weakly. But the words did not reach him anymore.
She stared at him hard now, determined not to let a tear leak out. She had already thought everything out. They would be happier if they weren’t together. He needed someone more supportive than her, that was for sure. Someone who didn’t regard everything in life with a status, an automatic winner versus loser binary she possessed that shunned many and kept her isolated. And in turn, she needed someone who would understand her, and comprehend who she was as a person and what her art meant. She needed that comprehension. She craved it.
“Aren’t you just looking for a clone of yourself to date?” He blurted, before he could stop himself.
“Huh?” That was so out of left field, she didn’t know how to respond. A clone of herself? Was that really what she had been describing in her mind, in her dreams of her ideal man?
“Yeah,” he said, feeling his side of the argument pick up momentum. “All those qualities, like being able to read well, aren’t those just things you already have? Why would you want a copy of yourself?”
Another human being able to read and appreciate literature wouldn’t be a replica of herself, she wanted to reply indignantly, but stopped herself. She just didn’t care enough to fight back. She had won every argument they had had in the past year. Why not let him have one last hurrah before the end?
What did it hurt her, anyways? She walked upstairs to her room and retrieved her luggage, moving swiftly past her distraught former lover. Feelings die when they’re not watered enough. There wasn’t anything to do about it, really.

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