Three persons filled a foursquare room; the conversation was wary and unrehearsed. Neither would say what the other was thinking. They sat in blazing-cold silence talking to themselves in the mirror of their own reflection.

“I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to believe,” said the skeptic to the mindless gossiper.

“You’re correct,” replied the naysayer, “I believed you from the very start.”

“I wasn’t talking to you!”

“Yes, that’s true. The pleasure is all mine.” The cynic leaped to his knees.

Spinning in circles, little boy peep falls toward the ground. Her head in the clouds she suffocates in the vacuum of space while asking her, his question:
“Why?”

“Don’t tell me that lie. You had me from ‘goodbye’. I loved you from the last.”

There was nothing he could think in reply, she had thought enough for the three of them each. He stood motionless, quivering in his seat, until he had finished saying what he never meant to say.