On the first day I moved into the rental room, the landlady told me a new tenant would be arriving tomorrow. The next day, as I was slicing onions and crying my eyes out in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. I quickly wiped my face and ran to answer the door. Standing there was the last person I expected. Yep, it was my ex. A tear—probably from the onions—slowly rolled down my cheek as I heard him mutter: "Don't try to make me feel sorry for you. You were the one who wanted to break up. Crying now won't change anything." Me: "…"
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