"We can't do this anymore, Harry."
"What are you talking about?"
"This, us. You know what I mean."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please don't make me say it."
"Don't do this, Ern."
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Har."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"You don't know what you want!"
"Ernie-"
"Don't. I'm sorry, Harry. I can't do this anymore. I can't. You don't know what you want, you're so impulsive and you just do, and you don't think about anyone at all, just yourself."
"I want you-"
"No, you don't."
When the door closes, he knows it won't open again. The final click as it shuts, the final rustling of her pulling her clothes on. She doesn't even bother to put on her shoes but leaves anyways in her little grey socks decorated with french Bulldogs that he always teased her about even though he secretly loved how cute they were on her small feet. She doesn't even turn to look at him for a last time, he knows she didn't even though he remained hunched over facing the window the minute she said she didn't want him anymore.
Only after her warmth dissipated from the room did the tears dripped from tired green eyes that wished he could've seen her a last time.
