He will never, even if he lives to a hundred years, cease to regret meeting Amber. He tried to rouse sympathy from those closest to him, and even from himself. But he found none.

Though it made him sick and clammy, he could still remember the first morning, after a breakup with a long term girlfriend, waking up next to Amber. Even then, he realized the colossal mistake he had made.

She had ten meaningless religious symbols, each from a different faith, tattooed to her chest. She swore after every second word she spoke. She spent every Friday night at a bar, trying to be picked up by a man she hadn’t met. She paid a fine instead of voting. She used plastic bags, not in the least bio-degradable, to do her shopping.

So it was with a sense of righteousness that he dialed Amber’s mobile number, planning to tell her it was over between them.

“Hey,” she greeted him. “I’m pregnant. But I don’t want to have an abortion. I’ve done that already.”

And after that call, he tried for the first time to kill himself.