The clock ticked once.

“I want to see other people.”

The clock ticked again. There was a defeaning silence all around, a vacuum, in which time didn’t exist. But it did, and the clock ticked once more.

“For how long?”

“For however long it takes.”

One more tick.

“I don’t want that. I want to be with you.”

“I’m sorry, then. I need something new, something fresh.”

“You feel we’ve been stagnant?”

Three ticks.

“Stagnant? Our bed of flowers hasn’t been watered in years.”

A tick.

“I don’t feel that way. I still love you.”

Another tick. And another.

“Do you love me too, still?”

A tick, accompanied by a shake of the head.

“I know this hurts you, and I’m sorry. But I have to go meet someone.”

The clock ticked many more times, the only other sound in the room.