(Story begins here.)
Six months. It was merely six months after his graduation that he moved out to Mountain View to work at one of the many technology companies in the region when he received the email. His jaw hit the ground when he saw its contents.
``Dear Mike, I'm sorry. I know you made lots of big plans with me about our future, about how we will live together after I've graduated and start our lives together as a couple. I didn't want to remind you of this earlier because you were so happy then, what with your graduation and the getting of that dream job of yours, but I will remind you now: I am not the sort who would settle down. I still love you very much, but I cannot see myself living the life of a wedded wife; I just can't. It probably doesn't help that while you were gone, I got lonely, and went back to some of the parties that the fraternities were hosting, and kissed a guy there. No, we didn't sleep together, but I thought I should let you know. I'm sorry, but you clearly want me as a wife, but I cannot live that way.
``Let's break up now before you get even more hurt. Once more, I'm sorry it turned out that way.
``Love, Irene.''
It was supposed to be a love story. That was what Mike kept trying to remind himself each time he was alone in his apartment and looking at the few photographs that he had of him and Irene. A love story. But it did not turn out that way after all.
Mike took one look at the remaining whiskey in his glass and finished it all in one gulp before lying on his hands on the table and sobbed silently to himself.
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