300 word story about a special kind of breakup
I suppose it’s true what they say. Sometimes you gotta kick a bitch to the curb. And I’ll admit I’ve been your bitch for far too long now. So long all my hair’s fallen out and my joints creak when you sit down these days. I've seen you at your best and your worst, let you see me just how I am.
But you have to admit, it’s been a good, long run.
We’ve had some great times together, like when you were dating that soccer mom and you two kept doing it right in the living room. Right in front of me. But I didn’t say anything – would never say anything. You’re a grown man, after all, and she gave – what was that they say, “ongoing, enthusiastic consent.”
Yes, I think that’s it.
And I didn’t judge you when you got sick and messed your pants that one time, either, even though you got a little bit on me and didn’t bother to clean it up. I knew you would have if you weren’t practically on death’s door.
On your deathbed.
But hey, everyone comes into your life for a reason, right? I just hope we’ve gotten what we needed from each other.
I’ll shuffle along now. I’m sure the sanitation crew will be kind…
Hey, you never know, maybe one of them will want to take me home. I’ve got a few good years left in me, if he’s the right kind of guy, anyway. Could be he’s got some soccer mom with a late night craving, too, and I’ll get to not judge them at night. They can feed me popcorn between the cushions when that part in the movie comes where everyone screams and grabs each other. That’s my favorite part.
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