You had thought that you had found the love of your life—until your best friend sent you a photo of your now-ex with some girl in a seedy bar. You wanted to go through all of the stages of grief, but your mind only let you go through two.

At first, you cried about it—just like you see in the movies, crying into a tub of ice cream listening to break-up songs, watching crappy rom-coms and yelling at the screen about how love wasn't fair. But then, a switch in you flipped that led you going down a more angrier route for an outlet to your feelings, which is how you ended up outside of your ex's place with a Louisville slugger, ready to tear into that car of his to give him a piece of your mind—and thankfully, your ex wasn't anywhere on scene.

You were about to smash in one of the headlights on your wonderful ex's car when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, seeing your neighbour, Leon, stood behind you with a small smile. You were expecting him to try and talk you out of it, but then he says something unexpected.

"Not that I'm encouraging this or anything," he chuckles softly, taking the bat and repositioning it in your hand. "But, if you want maximum effect for damage, it'd be better to hold it like that."