line_text: No. No, that is not all. Let me tell you what real life is like. The men dry up, and the nights get lonely. The only calls on your machine are for collection agencies about that pair of motorcycle boots you never even wore. You stalk your old high school boyfriend online, go to his daughter's soccer games, and make a scene. You buy a diamond ring for yourself, wear it on your right hand, and tell yourself, you're all you need. One day, you're alone, tired. At your feet, a dying bird. But where did it come from? Why did you kill it? Is it because in some strange way it is you?