Jack entered his flat, went into the kitchen, stood by sink, wolfing the frankfurter he’d bought.
He was still hungry when he finished, but told himself he could lose a couple of pounds as he went into the living room.
Jack plopped on the sofa, turned on the television, trying to remember how and why he and Paula had broken up.
It was a blank.
He could see her then, as she was. Hair pulled back, no make up, dressed plain.
She was a friendly girl, bright, yes. He remembered how much fun they had just talking.
It must have been nearly twenty years ago , they’d dated.
Then something punched into his mind.