v. I never agreed to move out. That was the way our relationship had always been. Things happened, and we accepted them rather in spite of ourselves.

We had our times, up and down. Somewhere along the line, though, I moved back into the other room. I was the "friend" now, and someone else began to spend the time with her I had spent.

Eventually, one day, I found myself in my old car, both of us a bit older, sitting across the street from a cousin's house, staring at my cassettes and playing sad tunes in my head as I wondered where next I would be able to play them in my cassette player.

There had been no confrontation. For all I know, she still hasn't noticed I'm gone. I know that's not true, though. We may have stopped being lovers, but we never stopped being close. We were like no one else to each other. Maybe that's why there was no confrontation, why I couldn't even leave a note because I knew if I did I would end up trying to hurt her just to protect myself.

Hell, sooner or later she's got to notice the rent's gone up.

[unfinished]