Arthur was sat on his cot, you sitting beside him. His hands were clasped around the neck of a beer bottle as he took a long breath.

“I mean…” he began, but his words quickly faded into the air. He wasn’t looking at you at all. He seemed a bit ashamed. His words for the past half hour had all been about Mary, nothing else.

“I guess I ain’t too sure what I mean. I’m just bein’ a fool again.” He chuckled, softly, but you knew that he was forcing himself to act as if he wasn’t bothered. He sighed deeply.