Cleave

Reader, he broke my heart. Broke it with those strange platitudes spoken in a language that seems like the one you speak, ordinary words askew turned in your head to see if they mean you're too much, you're not enough, I'm bored, restive, doubtful, sleeping with someone else, wish I was sleeping with someone else; but that's a tangle with a B-movie anaconda and behind the dubbed hissing and snapping it's just over, and you'll sit down tomorrow with your hands wrapped around a hot cup and this pain, this superbly everyday pain, toast and a litre of milk and some apricot yoghurt, buy one get one free, until one morning something else comes with your coffee.

It was worth it.