"The way that i love you isn't healty for neither of us, I think you should move out."

When she heard him say it, the words slipped by her as some unimportant nonsense he just thought out loud, and she turned around to him with a smile. He didn't smile back, and the words, still hanging in the air, sinked in. What he really meant, she never knew, she never bothered, and allthough he had been a perfect lover for half a year, and the former desire-based relationship had slowly begun evolving, that night she just left.

And he was glad she did.

He had about four of these relationships going, and had to end one of them. Maybe even one more. The second she was out the door, he got up and threw all that reminded of her, including the sheets, pillow, and a few dvd's they had pretended to watch sometimes. A kind of anger got over him, intense and suprisingly, and as he picked up his phone to call her back home to him, he ended up trowing it in the wall. Emotions had become a distant part of his life these last years, and the last spoken sentence was just a planed desicion, based on strategic thinking. But this feeling, the wave of anger, became sadness.