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  • I just stood there. The celling fan had more to say than I did. My jaw wasn’t really on the floor but I was somewhat positive I felt the linoleum graze my beard. My eyes, I can only imagine the flames behind them. I’m sure they were in the opposite state than which they felt though. They burned like coals, I felt the heat radiating into my brain, but they weren’t on fire. My eyes were drowning. They filled with so much salt water that everything looked as though somebody smeared vaseline on my sunglasses. I sat down. Not because I needed to, but because my legs gave me no other option. There’s something to be said about receiving bad news. There’s even more to say about the state it puts you in: dumbfounded, loss of verbal capabilities, only thoughts, maddening thoughts. He broke my heart in that kitchen. He broke my heart and then we ate sandwiches because nothing builds up an appetite quite like ruining a beautiful thing and then wishing it all away. Mine was bologna. Our relationship was the real bologna though. He ate salami with ketchup, a delicious duo I introduced him to. What introductions did I get? What did he ever truly give me? He wiped his plate clean the kissed me in the french fashion. I just cried and let him. I didn’t even finish my sandwich. I didn’t even care. I just sat there.
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