There is little left to say to somebody after you have just told them that you no longer feel any love.

She twisted a lock of her dark, curly hair around her finger and shifted in her seat. She did not know where to look; all she knew was, she did not want to look at him. He was sitting opposite her, she sensed he was reaching for a cigarette in his jacket pocket again. She heard the rustling of the plastic wrapping, as he tore open yet a new packet.

“You smoke too much,” she muttered, for lack of anything else to say. She still did not want to catch his gaze.

“Eh, merde, what’s it to you?”

He was angry, of course he was. They had been together for twelve months now, and she had chosen to break the news on this day, their first anniversary. She did not know why today had become the right time to end their ties.

“I’m bored with everything, I feel tied down, I need to breathe,” how cliché, she thought as she said it.

Did all relationships end with those words? Probably not all, she thought. Not the good ones. He protested a little bit, but not too much really. He never had a lot to say.

“Let’s go away, maybe spend some time traveling. Relax, make love.”

He leant forward, touching her arm. She did not like him touching her. He had been her best lover; she did not want reminding. Not now. Not now, that she was ending it all. She shrugged, and tossed her hair.

“You are beautiful Céline, there is no need for any of this.” How strange he could often be.
“Non,” she was adamant, “I need to be alone.” They lapsed into silence.

Vous désirez?” the waiter interrupted. The café was busy, and he had ignored them for a while.

Un thé au citron.” Lemon tea. Their favorite drink every Sunday afternoon. For twelve months now they had spent those lazy après-midis in the Café Royal. It was on their first date, at this same table, they had discovered they shared a love of lemon tea. She remembered, how he had smiled when she had ordered. “Moi aussi,” and he had asked for the same.

“I’ve never dated a man who drinks lemon tea” she had told him, as they began to sip. Again he had flashed the most amazing smile.

“Céline, what a sheltered life. Perhaps it’s time you lived a little.” He had leant in close to her, and had kissed her on the lips. She had tasted the lemon, and had felt the heat of his mouth.

Et vous, Monsieur?” The waiter’s voice broke her memories. She looked up and watched her lover reach for the menu. “I don’t know,” he stopped and looked at Céline. “Actually, I do. Un espresso s’il vous plaît.” He broke her gaze. She kept looking at him but did not speak.

There is little left to say to somebody after you have just told them you that you no longer feel any love.


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