"So how'd the breakup go?"

I was supposed to say no, you know? It was the plan. Pay the check, run off, run his texts dry and watch him kick his tires. I do my laundry and he loses his mind. I scripted it front to back, lived it, sipped his tension through my spine like a straw. Thank God, I would say, that it's over. Now I'm thinking about him between dishes and he's texting me about his mother and I'm kicking my shins in trying to rationalize just one more chance, one more chance. We'll go out to breakfast and I'll fantasize about choking on his fingers and I'll pay the check and come back next day expedited, God, this man will call me and I'll daydream about carpet on my knees and hearing myself sob against him and he will never know. He will never know. I will go grocery shopping and feel his hands on the cart and his lips on my throat. I'll say no next time. One more check.