“We need to talk.”
The dreaded words. Jack cringed as he listened to her say them, realizing that their relationship was dying.
“You’re just,” Cecelia hesitated, fingering a blade of grass that grew beneath them. They were sitting on Jack’ back porch, beers in hand. “You’re just too reckless Jack.” She said, “I can’t do this anymore; I can’t be this girl, the one who’s sitting by the phone waiting for her boyfriend to call, but he never does, the girl who’s always disappointed. I don’t want to be that girl anymore, Jack; I think we should break up.”
There were the words. Jack grinned manically. “Is that what you want, Cecelia?” He said.
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