W... T... F....

W... T... F....

"Wait! It's not what you think!" he blubbered. "NO! Don't leave! I can explain...all of...this." But she was gone, and with her, any dream of happiness he ever had. W...T...F...

He went to drown his sorrow at the pub. By closing time, he was ecstatic she had dumped him. For he had met a woman the shape of whose legs made it clear she was his REAL soulmate.

Sure, she was a nice piece of ass, but he was confident that if he actually spoke to her, he'd love her for her mind. If she could understand his slurred confession of love, they'd

have a chance to be happy together. Or at least to spend a few good years. He tried to avoid staring at her body and the exquisite way she knew how to move it. "Hi

friction composition shoes", he blurted out. He always did that when he got nervous about where his libido was taking him. He would blurt out random railroad related factoids.

This would turn off many women, but Train Girl was different. "Read me the estimated times of arrival for the Detroit Station again," she purred, moving closer to him than he had

"Seven..o'clock," the man murmured, his eyes dancing over the approaching girl. Did the time really matter though? Each moment felt infinite with her.

fake news flashed across every world news station: I drank the potion she offered me I found myself on the floor then I looked in those big green eyes and I was no more...the end.