You sat across from Simon. The man you convinced yourself you once loved. Maybe you did.

Perhaps that’s why your hands trembled as your eyes scanned his face for any sort of emotion.

The room is silent, except for the scrapes of cutlery against ceramic plates. Not a word was uttered. Not even an insult; Simon didn’t bother arguing with you anymore.

“Why do we keep doing this?” His voice hauled exhaustion, his calloused hand brushing over his face.

“Why do you keep trying to save us?”