Breakup

“I’m sorry,” she says. “This isn’t working anymore.”

I nod. She looks away, and twirls a lock of hair around one long, red-tipped finger.

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I mean, you’re great. It’s a me thing.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I understand.”

She smiles. 

I smile.

“So…” I say. “You’ll let me out of the pit now?”