The Break-Up

I told him not to come back. But there he was, standing in the doorway, despite all of the damage. “I can’t take it anymore.” I told him again.

“But I haven’t seen you in nearly a month.”

“But you have been dead for three years. This isn’t normal, you know.”

“When were we ever normal?” he said, the words slithering haphazardly across his decaying tongue.


“We said we would always be together, Jen. I promised. Do you want me to break that promise?”

“Adam, you have been dead for three years. Three years! With two therapy sessions a week, that’s over a goddamn thousand hours of therapy. I’m over you. I’m done.”

“Is it…someone else?”

“Someone else? For fuck’s sake, Adam, you’re a walking corpse. A zombie. I mean, look at yourself. Scratch that – you can’t look at yourself. Cuz you don’t have fucking eyes anymore!”

“There’s no need to get vulgar. I know I’ve let myself go, but we can work through this. I love you Jen. And I always will.”

I slammed the door in his face and bolted it tight.

“Alright then”, he called through the door. “I can see tonight’s not a good night. I’ll uh…I’ll stop by tomorrow. Okay?”

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