“First of all, it would be the last thing I’d want to do and the last thing you’d want too; let’s be honest. I’d leave beyond angry with myself and you’d pretend you were done with me, that it was for the best. Then you’d get inside, put on your pajamas, have five minutes to cool down, and realize you’re angry with yourself too. You’d cry over our fight, like you’re doing now, because you’d feel bad that you hurt me with your words. And me?” He gestures at himself as he looks me over, watching my tears continue to fall. “I’d get home, be pissed at myself for letting you walk away, leaving you
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