Talbot guessed he would never be alone.

- Why are you telling me that? - Because I wish have got a sensible woman beside of me. - But I do know that, you don’t need to patronize me. - Ok I sweetheart, I’m just going for a drink with some bastards, do you mind? - You’re asking me whether I mind leaving you meet up your disgusting lovers, are you? - No, I’m not. I’m just going for a drink. - I’m sorry but I can’t believe you. Talbot leaves the flat, Natasha screams madly, the neighbours hear that and attempt to complain, but Natasha is irreducible. Talbot was not going to meet up any disgusting lover, unless his wearisome friends wish. Natasha was shouting random swears surrounded by unconsidered neighbours. Talbot was smoothly having a drink with his job partners, but it was all. Natasha could not comprehend and soothe herself. When he comes home the trouble is ready to depart. - I’ve told you shouldn’t have gone. - Why? - Because I didn’t want you to go. Do you think It’s fair leaving me alone in the damn evening, spending all that time with neighbours? - You did because so you wished, for sure. - No. - Every morning is the same, can’t you realise I’m sick of all? I’d just like doing something different. It’s not so hard to see me, is it? - Ok, you only need to let me know and maybe we can try those church programs to avoid divorces. - That’s quite foolishness. I can’t hear you’re telling me that. - I’m just trying. - So you shouldn’t. Just leave me alone. They go to bed. They do not talk at all for all the nightlong. And in the morning, new arguments were likely to come up. - Every morning you smile the same, you breathe the same, you damn smell the same, you kiss me on the same exact corner of my mouth, and then you ask me for not being faded, I’m sorry dear, but I can’t. - You don’t even try. - Yes, I do. Talbot goes to work. Natasha weeps. Talbot talks on the phone, while Natasha traces her wrists deeply. Talbot comes back home, there is no neighbour, and there is no difference apart the utter quietness. Talbot gets in his home. A few bloody stripes stain the scarlet carpet – but how?!, you ask me, and I reply: The carpet was not that scarlet, some kind of forged scarlet carpet. Talbot browses for the source. Talbot finds her (ex) wife’s wrists pouring down on blood. The matter was the same mint flavour every single morning; the same yellowed smile every single evening, the same damp kiss every single nightfall. Talbot is happy since then.