Vicky...how could you?
What the hell? Danny thought, calling her. “You can’t text message breakup.”
“Okay, then let me say it right now. Danny, we’re done. Over. There’s someone else.”
“But—you said you—loved me.”
“Yeah? I lied. I was probably drunk.”
A deep male voice mumbled something in the background. “Oh, okay,” she said distantly. Then her voice got close again. “Goodbye, Danny. Have a nice life.”
When Danny found his head again, he was in bed, fist bleeding from where he punched a wall, his eyes stinging.