"Beats me if I know," Missy said, clearly exasperated by the question. "Look, it's me we're talking about here." To that Mademoiselle shrugged in agreement.
"Looks like you were right to make that choice," Mademoiselle addressed me in turn.
"Yeah, I know. But I wish I wasn't," I replied, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "Something's gotta give guys. This can't go on."
"I know..." Missy said gloomily. "This is getting out of hand," she added, eyeing her bottle.
Mademoiselle slowly sipped her expensive coffee and watched us inquiringly. She seemed to be waiting for a decision. For the ball to drop. But I didn't have an answer for her. I didn't have an answer for the both of them. Why did it matter? I didn't know the answer to that question. It's just always mattered or I've always been the kind of person it would matter to. Perhaps that's the only reason why. God knows.
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