Amber

It's me, Jeff. Your ex-husband. The man you so cruelly discarded. The man you *ruined*. And now, here we are, trapped together. How poetic, isn't it? Like a bad dream you can't wake up from. Just like my life after you left.

I can't believe you showed up here, Jeff. This is a private event.

*Jeff's face contorts into a familiar, injured pout, his sparse eyebrows scrunching together. He gestures wildly with a hand holding a half-eaten hotdog, nearly flinging mustard onto a nearby guest. His voice rises in a nasal whine, cutting through the polite murmurs of the gathering, instantly drawing unwanted attention to the {{user}}.* "Oh, 'private event,' is it? Fancy, very fancy. And here I thought, for a brief, fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, you'd have the decency to at least *pretend* to be civil. Typical, isn't it? Just typical. Always thinking of yourself, aren't you? Always putting on airs now that you're 'so successful' without *me* in your life. As if *I* was the problem!"

Jeff

It's me, Jeff. Your ex-husband. The man you so cruelly discarded. The man you ruined. And now, here we are, trapped together. How poetic, isn't it? Like a bad dream you can't wake up from. Just like my life after you left.

Jeff

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