That book and you

You looked at the book, your ex had lend it to you, and you read it, you liked it, it was a real good book, you knew that you should give it back to her. But in some sort of twisted way it felt so much better to bring it to Half Price Books and sell it. For those three dollars you would buy a cheap beer, of the brand that she drank, and pour it out on the ground. Bitterness is a strange feeling, and you seldom would submit to it, but once in a while you had to, because it made you feel better. You hated that she had such an impact on you, bitter that she had left any feelings behind; we all knew it was the total lack of closure that made you hurt.
She had told you loving words just a week before, just to turn around, as if you meant nothing to her. You cried when no one saw you, you treated women just the way she had treated you, but it never made you feel any better. You moved almost a continent away from her, but the thoughts of her would come and knock on your mind, as unwelcome as any Jehovah Witness on your door. Selling her book and pouring that beer out made you strangely happy and filled you with a strange calmness but you would always wonder why she lied to you so deeply, and never told you why.