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Nothing.  The steady red glow of death.  No flashing messages here.

No big deal.  No really, no big deal.  I will just brush ye olde teeth and slip underneath the covers and make plans for my fabulous new life of singledom, which is starting tomorrow…

I can't handle it.  I pick up the phone and call.  His fucking voice mail picks up.  I hang up.  I'm such a dumbass.