You ask to move back in. I say maybe. You promise you’ll actually pay rent this time. I say maybe. You swear you’re really over her this time. I snort derisively. You beg. I say get on down on your knees and ask me pretty. You kneel and apologize for hurting me, taking me for granted, running up the bills, bringing your loud, drunk friends over. I say let me think about it. Sleep in your car a while and then we’ll talk. You plead with tears in your eyes. You claim you truly care for me and you’ll change. I open the door and wave you on out.