She was a sucker for a bad boy, a guy from the wrong side of the law. I think she just loved a good drama and that was something he could provide. “She’s no one,” he’d say, “just an old friend.” And there would be hell, tears, sore throats from screaming. From us-hugs and kisses. “Leave him,” we’d say. “You’re better than him,” we’d say. Forest’s of toilet paper to dry salty eyes. Tequila and triple vodkas to drown in. Salt up the nose and lemon in the eye- that’s how we did it. She’d feel strong, like she could go it alone. “I can do it,” she’d slur, squinting. But in the morning, with the hangover depression and need for some love, she never could resist his “forgive me, I’ll change. I’m nothing without you.” A poor education, all he knew was clichés. Seen it on the telly.