IN THE ELEVEN MINUTES I HAVE LEFT UNTIL I CAN LEAVE FOR THE DAY, I WILL WRITE A VERY SHORT STORY

Allan sat there nursing his drink thinking that he had never realized how much he actually liked the song playing over the loudspeakers. Surely, he had always respected Aerosmith and their longevity but Allan never thought he would be consciously admiring one of their songs. And their words. These words are actually pretty good, he thought. ‘Tell me what it takes to let you go/ tell me how the pain’s supposed to know.’ Gosh. Steven Tyler has feelings and he's, like, pouring them out.

“Are you listening to me,” Zoe asked, “or are you wandering off again?”
“Yes,” Allan responded.
“Yes what? Yes-you-are-listening or yes-you-were-wandering-off?”
“Yes. I’m wandering.” Allan was too tired to pretend otherwise.
“We need to talk.” Allan noticed that Zoe was looking down, telling the wooden beer-sticky floor that they needed to talk. Allan had to assume that she was actually talking to him because floors made lousy conversation. He knew that from experience. "I'm not who you think I am," Zoe said.
'Oh?" Allan was now paying attention only because he was certain that Zoe was finally going to tell him that she was a secret agent. That would finally explain all her time spent away on 'business trips.'
"I'm not in love with you anymore."
Wait..does that mean she's not a secret agent, Allan wondered.
And with this, Elton John's 'Sad Songs' played next.