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“I’m leaving. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Ten.”
“You never talk to me.”
“Nine.”
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. What’s wrong with you?”
“Eight.”
“After everything I’ve done for you it’s the least you can do. Just talk to me.”
“Seven.”
“I’ve stood by you, haven’t I? Who asked her father to lend you the money to start your own business? Me. It’s always me.”
“Six.”
“Did I try to talk you out of it? Did I ever use the words 'A karaoke bar that only plays Love Will Tear Us Apart wouldn’t work'? No, because I loved you.”
“Five.”
“And when you disappeared for six months without telling anyone, did I find comfort with another man? Did I not wait for you? Was I angry when you came back?”
“Four.”
“Even though you’d spent half a year in isolation trying to copyright every possible song that could be written in the future.”
“Three.”
“And did I laugh at you when you’d only written songs that already existed?”
“Two.”
“What happened to you? What happened to the man who loved me, the man who said he’d die without me?”
“One.”
“Well I guess he’s gone, and so am I.”
“Zero.”



Emma, Manchester.