I can’t work with you any more

‘I think I’m going to be going away for a bit,’ the book says. ‘Give you some space. Let you work in peace.’

‘What brought this on?’

‘Nothing you’ve said, it’s fine.’

‘I didn’t think I had.’

‘Well fine then.’

‘Fine. So why are you going? Anywhere I know?’

‘Nowhere you know, no.’

‘Because?’

‘I need to.’

‘Says who?’

‘Just a decision I’ve made. I can’t work with all this noise, all this, all this chatter the whole time.’

‘I see.’

‘I can’t work with you any more I mean.’

‘I see.’

‘Is that all you have to say, ‘I see’?’

‘You still haven’t told me why you’re going.’

‘Do you really want to know?’

‘Nothing but the truth,’ I say.

‘I can’t stand the sight of you, if you want to know. You make me sick. Sick. I’m sorry, but there it is. It’s over.’