“What should I say?” He asked. “Should I tell you a pretty little story to make you feel better? Should I tell you that last night meant something to me? I’m not a liar.”

“So it meant nothing to you? Not one moment of it? You are a liar. I know you felt something,” she insisted. “You’re just afraid to admit it. Just let yourself feel it. Just once.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing to feel. Why can’t you just let this go? You should just enjoy the moment when they happen and then let them go. It’s a good way to live life.”

“It’s an empty way to live life. You’re just skimming along in existence. You’re not really living,” she told him. “You’re depriving yourself of something real.”

“Last night wasn’t real. It has no bearing on here and now. We were just two people finding a little momentary comfort,” he dismissed. “And that’s all it was.”

“I don’t see it that way,” she said.

“You’ll never see it that way.”

“Why did I even take up with you,” she frowned.

“Desperate?”

She rolled her eyes. “Never.”