After careful consideration Carl crept up the crooked stairs and knocked on Crystals door.

His hands were cold as ice, his knuckles ached as if he’s went ten rounds with Tyson.

Crystal answered the door wearing her bedraggled bedroom slippers that begged to be trashed like a rock band at a swanky hotel.

Her voice was like music to his ears.

“Do you know what time it is Carl? What in the name of Vince Lombardi are you doing here at this godforsaken hour, it’s as dark as dishwater you moron,” Crystal whaled.

“I..I had to see you Crystal, you’re Juliet to my Romeo, Angelina to my Brad,” Carl whined like a out of steam toy remote control car.

Carl lunged at Crystal, clung to her like white on rice.

Crystal caste Carl away.

“You’re a wet blanket you know that, you’re like, you want me, you don’t, you’re like a hot and cold running faucet all at the same time, except you’re not warm like springtime in Sarasota,” Carl exclaimed.

“It’s over Carl, you’re as dull as dirt.”