"You shouldn't have come."
"You always say that."
"Cut the melodramatic bullshit. I honestly need you to leave."
"Anything you left here and need, just take it."
"What, my fucking... my fucking razor? You think I'm here because I want my two dollar razor?"
"I think you, I don't care, then leave."
"Listen, I'm sorry if I did something that you didn't actually want me to, but"
"You don't ...it's not about you, just fuck off"
"You were fine at the time and I thought that was fine and"
"it was. Everything was fine. then it just wasn't. go."
"She was your choice, though, you wait it was between that other guy with the hair and her, and you wanted her"
"We're not fighting over it, you're just trying to prove that you're right and it's not about being right but you just... you weren't listening to me."
"I won't do that again, I just HEY At least LISTEN- if you're so mad I didn't listen, maybe you need to just speak to me, okay? Just fucking talk so I can listen. but now your turn- you speak and I'll listen."
"Fine. But you shouldn't have pushed it."
"She's gone, okay? Just us."
"I'm keeping your razor."
"I don't think I'd choose you," she whispered quietly.
The dust on the floor was visibly thick; no one had been back stage for months. She shifted her weight a bit, eyes still glued...