Every ending begins with a conversation
A few words become an argument. They are sent back and forth, slowly at first, then faster. They are shotgun blasts, splattered across the room with poor aim. Silence arrives, but the damage is done. Apologies follow, but they are more a reflection of remorse than a change of mind. Invisible lines are drawn, but the truce is temporary. Subsequent battles ensue, until exhausted, one side surrenders. Finally and for good, someone leaves.
Exhibit A or exhibit B, it matters not. Blame is revisionist history. There are a limited number of ways to do the math. Two minus one always equals one.
Every ending begins with a conversation.
Lights rarely go out quickly,