“Simon, I... ”
“No. No more. I’m done. You’re on your own. Don’t fry any more keyboards, ok? And try not to fuck anyone else in this office. If you do,” he shoots me a withering look, “shut the door. There’s a camera in the hallway designed to keep employees from stealing office furniture.”
“Simon!”
“Calm down. I turned it off after I saw you cart off that table the other day.”
“Can we please just talk?”
“Based on the events of the last hour, no, we clearly can’t. And we have nothing to talk about anyway. I’m not in the market for a fuck buddy. I’m not going to sneak around because you have hang-ups—hang ups I’d gladly help you get over, by the way. I love you and I’d do damn near anything to make you happy, but I won’t be your dirty secret.”
He leaves, and I don’t even try to stop him.
