A new story inspired by Woody Allen’s neurotic character seen in Manhattan and Annie Hall. Also, part of a new story collection I’ll affectionately call Ramblings
It’s a rather amusing story really. About a year ago, I was involved with this really pretty girl. She was rather pure hearted and innocent too. And a few years younger to me. Though, she is now dead.
It’s funny, because only the ten months ago, I was wondering how to break up with her. Without obviously, breaking her heart. Which, ironically enough, I could never have achieved without a speeding ambulance running her over on a red light. She died loving me and me, well loving her, and her heart not crushed, metaphorically. I on the other hand guilt free sleeping with other women, who are well, not her.
I, I well I could have told her that I didn’t love her anymore, but I value my clear conscience too much to let the guilt of breaking that poor girl’s heart destroy it. I couldn’t allow that. And now obviously, nobody will also bother me about my sleeping around with other women, who like I said before are not her. Since you know, I have void in my heart ever since she left. Or about how I’ll inevitably die of AIDS of syphilis or elephantiasis.