Unfaithful

It was cold, colder than normal for that time of year. They sat at a table for two in the far back corner of the bar, where they could keep their conversation private.
"You're sure then?" The bar was near empty,He asked.
"Very" She replied
with only the barkeep and one man drinking heavily at the bar as if he were trying to forget something desperately. They both judged the drunk a little. After all it was only a quarter passed noon.
"Then why even bother meeting me? Obviously you've made up your mind about this." He snarled, staring her down and dissecting her thoroughly looking for any trace of him on her.
" I want your blessing before I follow through, I love you but you've been so distant over the last year that I feel like I hardly know you anymore. It's just time Howard" She replied.
" Then fucking go, be with him. And while you're headed there go to hell to." He yelled.
         He stood up from his seat without saying another word to her. He walked over to the man drinking at the bar and sat a minute. A tear nearly escaped him as he sat there. Thinking about what had gone wrong. They met in the early winter of last year. He can still remember how she looked, radiant hair brown as brown could be. The smell of flowers in her perfume and the way she laughed. He thought back to fond intimate memories that are not for us to discuss.
"Whiskey soda barkeep, a double" He said aloud. He turned his head as to see her one last time, but she was gone.
"Good riddance." He lied to himself. He turned back to find the drunk man staring at him, his eyes were kind and in a way, sad.
"I know exactly what you're going through." Said the drunk.
"And just how in the fuck do you have any idea or inclination of what I am going through. Keep to your drink and your goddamn business.'" Howard snapped at the man. Howard paid the barkeep drank his drink and stepped outside. Lighting a cigarette he started his walk home.
He arrived to his apartment to find the neighbors arguing again.
"Typical" He said to himself.
         He sat on the end of his bed sweating and clenching his newspaper wrinkling it to an unreadable state.He just couldn't get it out of his mind.
"How in the hell can she do this to me?" He thought.
The light was dim in his small apartment, the only shadow that lingered was the one sitting within himself. He began to feel hollow, almost out of his own body. Outside the window the leaves were changing colors. Fall was here and with it the bitter cold. Often times they would walk together in the fall. He remembered her jacket he bought her and the red scarf she carried around her neck. The smell of her hair and the way she laughed.
         With a jolt he stood up and put on his coat. He stepped out into the hallway where the fight had died down finally. Fumbling with his keys he locked the door and started down the stairs. The wind had picked up and the bitter cold nipped at his face. He made his way down the street to the liquor store where he bought three bottles of good scotch then proceeded home.
         He arrived to find no fighting of any kind.
"Finally some fucking peace and quiet" He thought.
He was shaky, his hands quivered and shook as if he'd seen a ghost. He sat in his kitchen at the table and started writing his note. I won't speak it aloud but know that it was heartfelt. He then began to drink. He drank one, after another until he was dizzy. Even though his body was screaming at him to stop he continued.
         They found him two days later keeled over the kitchen table clutching her picture with a note next to him addressed to her. Some said it was a tragedy but some said he found peace after what she did to him. In the end only his soul knows the difference.