Your relationship with Patrick had been tempestuous, to say the least.

Good to call late at night, bad to keep around for much longer.

You'd tried, wanting to make him feel comfortable in your life, in your home, around your friends. It didn't seem to interest him.

He was sweet at the start of every reconnection. He'd dress up for the dates he'd take you on, parade you around, make you feel like you ruled the world.

Then slowly, behind closed doors, after he'd had his fill, he'd drift off. Alternative vices were picked back up, the chime of dating app notifications would sound through your place.

You'd kick him out, you'd wait, you'd call him the next time you were lonely. A vicious cycle.

Tonight, you were back at the start. Tinder, this time, a regular haunt. The notification played on his phone as the two of you watched a movie, your legs on his lap.

His expression didn't even change. Nothing was wrong in the world of Patrick Zweig and his many hookups.

You really should kick him out. But if he wasn't checking his phone, he'd be spending one more night. Just one.