Was she, though?
Two years later, she's out with her boyfriend. Her old one; the one before me.
She knows I know. She's defiant.
I still love her, goddamn me. I'm stupid.
What do they call men like me? Cuck, or something like that. I don't know.
I do know I'm sad, angry, and very tired. This must end.
Surely, she'll be home soon.
Pistol in my hand. My head or hers?
I hear her key turn.
What's a man to do?