Hindsight Is A Wonderful Thing

An exit interview is a rare courtesy, especially after the demise of a romantic liaison. Conor was peculiar like that. It was the same ineffable character of his that had made the relationship equal parts fun and frustrating. Like a conductor, he had a way of making energy flow through him, not past.

Sophie tried her best to appear neutral. She chose clothing that neither flattered, or faulted her, and arrived exactly on time. Of course, Conor was already there, sat at a table with a half-drunk coffee, as if Sophie was one of many appointments in his evening. And maybe she was.

It was a chain cafe designed with corporate-simulated individuality: deliberately mismatched furniture and cutesy beverage names that no customer condescended to actually use. Conor didn’t know that Sophie had worked in the same chain when she was in high school, and again her first year after college. He was too ambitious a person to be weighed down by the past. It was once a thing Sophie found attractive about him.

She tipped the barista a bit too much for a plain coffee--no sugar, a drop of milk--and joined Conor at his table.

They exchanged social niceties, but Sophie was distracted by the ghosts of passionate kisses on his lips. She regretted her outfit, remembering the strappy sundress with the many knots he had failed to untie, effectlessly pulling at her strings until they dissolved into laughter over his rare imperfectness.

“You look well,” Conor told her, and her body hummed with all the potential that once coursed between them. “Are you still taking your spin classes?”

“No,” Sophie admitted, “it’s too tricky trying to get out of work early enough to get to the studio on time.”

“Surprising that the hotel can’t spare you,” he mused, frowning at his coffee. “Did you receive that promotion after all?”

“No,” she said, “We’re just swamped, you know? Bookings are always out of control during the festival season.”

“Of course,” he conceded. “At the mercy of the whims of tourists.” He drummed his fingers on the table. It caused her cup to rattle against it’s saucer. Her coffee rippled at the surface, and she felt herself being disproportionately annoyed at the disturbance.

“Anyway, you asked me here,” she said. “What’s on the meeting agenda?”

“No agenda,” he scoffed. “I just thought you deserved the courtesy, seeing as I was the one who ended--”

“I was, you know.” Sophie interrupted. “But I think I’m perfectly okay with our relationship being over.”

She stood to leave and he ineffectually protested.

“Wait. You deserve closure,” he said without even shifting his posture.

“I deserve a lot of things,” Sophie said. “I just don’t think I deserve to waste anymore of my time with you.”