Mary lay in bed, used tissues littered in the mess of her pillows, and blankets. She thought about their conversation the day before.
“Mary?” John asked, sitting next to her, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” she replied, sniffly.
“Don’t lie.” he said sternly.
“I was just thinking…” she started softly.
John made a “going on” motion with his hands.
“You went to work…” she muttered.
(John wondered what this had to do with anything.)
“I wondered if it would always be like that…” she continued.
“What?” he asked.
“Whether or not we were always going to part like that.” she replied.
“Mary, you have to understand that I have to work. Why do you always look at the negative side of relationships?” John gave her a disapproving look.
“Because I never wanted to be in one!” she snapped. “You were the one who told me love was some ‘great adventure’! Well I’m telling you that it hurts!”
He sighed deeply, “Love hurts… Mary.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” she demanded.
“Because I thought you knew. You read all those adventure, and fantasy books after all. Every adventure is not without it’s pain.” he explained.
At this, she began to cry.
Mary looked at the door with sorrow. John was gone.