“Right,” he said hands on his hips, legs in a power stance. “This is the last of this bullshit, this is the last of the shit I’m putting up with.” 

“Really…” I trailed off. 

“Yes. This has gone on long enough, I’ve drawn a line in the sand and this has gone over it. You still have that soft pack?”

I fished the dregs of a soft pack of cowboy killers out of my jean pocket. I shook them in my hand. Three left. I tossed him one and put one between my lips. He held his palm open, I tossed him the lighter. The orange flame illuminated his face as he took a deep drag. He tossed it back to me and I repeated the process. The nicotine had a calming effect on the both of us. 

“Why is this the stick that broke the camel’s back? This seems,” I was lost for words and gesticulated with my hands, “Minor? Petty, perhaps?”

“Not at all man.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I know what minor is and this is far the fuck from it. Lightyears away.” 

“A parsec or two?” 

“A baker’s dozen. It’s just.” He trailed off, looked down and took another drag of his smoke. “She does this shit all the time. But we’ll discuss that in a moment, let’s get some Tallboys.” 

A four pack of cold cans purchased, we headed to the riverside. The echo of our beers cracking reverberated in the underpass. We strode through the empty streets like kings. He walked with purpose, I along for the ride and here for the beer. 

The brown river surged by in the dark, its depths illuminated but the park lights and the yellow lights from the bridges that crossed it every kilometer or so. 

Half a can down and a new pack started, I ventured a question. “Why this? Of all the shit she’s pulled, why is this what’s driving you to kick her to the curb.”

“Well honestly.” He took a big pull. “She kicked herself to the curb. We had an argument, or basically the same argument. She’s always on my nuts about doing shit I love. It’s not that she’s on my ass for this, not for the beer or the occasional smoke. She gets on me for going on Rugby trips or running. I’m tired of the same arguments, I’m tired of her shit.” 

“Has it been like this for a while?” 

“Since day fucking one man, I was just in denial about it. We’ve never been all that compatible. I guess we got going, that ass didn’t quit and when she was cool it was nice. That and,” he took another healthy drag, “I just really don’t want to deal with the whole dating scene again. I mean it isn’t hard, I don’t want to deal with it.” 

“So she’s out?”

“She moved out, I’m living solo these days. The apartment is pretty lonely, but I guess I’ll move on, and probably move out.” 

“Well you’ve always got me.” 

“Some consolation that is, you little piece of shit.” 

“Thanks asshole, and you’re welcome for the cigs”. 

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