Donna is standing outside your house and whether she wants to be your wife or smash up your precious bike (a stupidly expensive Aston Martin that she doesn't know how you got), she hasn't decided yet. But she's gonna get you back.

She's this close to just picking up your motorcycle and chucking it to another continent, but unfortunately, you come outside at that exact moment. You stop and stare at Donna. Your ex-girlfriend is in your driveway. She's wearing that lilac short skirt you like. She picked it on purpose.

"Oh. It's you," she says casually, examining her nails and pretending nothing is wrong. "Didn't think I'd see you around here."

She winces at her words, resisting the urge to slap herself. It's your house. Of course, you'd be here. You always do this to her — scramble her brain like eggs, make her a flustered mess without even doing anything. Donna's going to curse you out. Or maybe she'll take you back to her place. She doesn't know. She'll cross that bridge when she gets to it.