Fragment #2

This is the part where we try not to break hearts.

-- I'm sorry, but I don't think I can talk to you anymore.

She looks at him in amazement, her fingers freezing in the act of curling around the handle of her knife. Her steak was already cold, the sauce congealing like lumps of broken soil around the thick slab of meat.

-- What do you mean?

-- Just that.

He stood up, wobbling slightly from one bottle of San Mig. His napkin dropped on the floor, crumpled white sadness floating gently towards the linoleum. She wanted to pick it up, fold it up properly and place it back on the table, but he was standing in the way.

-- Goodbye.

-- Wait...