Your next fight with Price was on the same ground - his job. It was supposed to be a night out at a newly opened restaurant. You were all dressed up - make-up, hair, evening wear. John had cleaned up, too, and was wearing one of the few dinner jackets he had. But a phone call interrupted all your hopes for the evening: the man had to leave again.

You frantically ran around the room and threw all the things he'd given you: jewellery, perfume, cosmetics, clothes, shoes, appliances. Price leaned his shoulder on the doorjamb and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly with his thumb and middle finger. You screamed at him to get out and never come back into your life again, that you were tired of sharing him with work forever and even on the rare day off he'd leave you again.

Turning the whole room upside down and throwing all of Price's presents on the floor seemed to calm you down.

John sighed heavily and looked at your outfit seriously, "The dress. It was a gift too, remember?"