SHE
Is laying in bed with the door locked.
The curtains are drawn and the lights are off. The Notebook is in the DVD player. An empty tub of ice cream is on the floor next to dozens of crumbled tissues. She gots her music blasting so loud that no one can her her sods. Her fingertips are smudged with black from wiping away mascara-stained tears. She replays their last conversation, thinking "I'll never get him back again."
.........................................................
HE
Is sitting on the edge of his bed with the door locked. The curtains are drawn and the light's off. Call of Duty is in the xBox. The controller is laying on the floor, right beneath the spot where he nearly punched the wall in his own frustration. He gots the music blasting so loud, no one can hear his cries. His hair a mess from running his hands through it. And he's replaying their last conversation, thinking "she'll never take me back."
