"You never fail to disappoint," she said, and walked out of his life.
Harold stared after her, stunned, wondering why she was leaving if it was true that he never failed. Did she want a failure?
Ten minutes later he realized what she had actually said. Yes, of course, she shouted and that should have given him a clue but when hungry he sometimes thought slowly.
He brushed at the spot on his trousers where she had kicked him. Then he spit on his handkerchief and rubbed at the wine stains on his shirt.
No, he had not spilled wine. He did not drink wine, although he had no objection if its flavor was mixed in with his usual drink. Taylor, the woman he had thought loved him, had reached up and emptied a full wine glass over his head.
His main regret was that she preferred red wine to white.
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