*Kenneth

Kenneth stirred. Something didn't feel right. Lonely. No—he felt alone.

He sat up, patting the bundled covers to his right. There was nothing under them and they were cold to the touch.

Silenced weighed heavy in the apartment. A sixth sense already told him she was gone—that lingering perfume on the pillows was all she had left behind.

A quick inspection of his apartment confirmed she was gone, but he was wrong about her scent in the bedroom being all she had left.

When he saw a fat envelope on the table, a cold spike went through his heart. She had written him a message:

This belongs to you. Thank you for trusting me for your first experiences.

Reese

His head reeled. And he had thought he was on shaky ground earlier. He was even more lost and confused than before trying to date. The cold pain in his heart spread through his chest.

Each step weighed heavy as a stone to return to his bedroom, as though he was dragging his empty past with him. Alone. Again. After all these years he finally had tempted the most beautiful woman he'd ever met into his bed, and here he was on his own halfway through the night.

He'd screwed something up. Royally. He'd done something. It had to be his fault, but fuck if he knew what it was.

And there was strictly no one in his life he could turn to for advice. The last time he'd needed advice this badly, he'd paid three thousand dollars for it. He frowned and reached for his phone.

Someone had advice for him.

She blogged for It's Not Rocket Science, It's a Vagina.

***

Morning came too soon. Bleary-eyed after reading through the night, he drove to work and fell into his routine. Sitting at his desk, he picked up his phone two dozen times an hour, wanting to write to her, hoping each incoming message was from her.

In another life, he was supposed to be getting ready for his big date that evening. Somehow, everything had fallen apart in the space of a few short days.

During his lunch break, the alert on his phone pinged for a new post. He glanced at it, gut tight and shoulder muscles bunched. The phone was by his mouse, an inch from his hand. He froze.

Reese had posted a blog. Would there be a message in it?

Over a year and half's worth of posts filled her blog and he had searched through every single one, hoping for a hint on what to do when a guy screws up so royally that a woman has to sneak out at three a.m. Plus, he had sifted through the many answers to readers' letters and her replies to comments. At that point, he had buckets of good advice, but still no answer as to why she left.

Based on what he had read, it was best to do nothing. No messaging, no begging, and under no circumstances, no harassing. A woman has a right to choose. A man does not have a right to know why. It went both ways, of course, if the man chose to break things off, but that wasn't much comfort.

He was surprised at how calm he suddenly was, reaching for his phone now, clicking the link, scrolling down the page to the text.

The post was titled: Take a Leap of Faith. And If That Fails, Make a Clean Break.

So was that what she was doing to him? Making a clean break? He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and read.

This will be a short post, my friends and readers. I had half a dozen pages written before I figured out it was all empty repetition. I was pouring my heart out on the page to make myself feel better.

You know when you are up against the odds and have to take a leap of faith? Yeah. You've been there, and if not, you will.

Do it.

If you feel like you have to jump, because you desperately want the person or the dream in front of you, then do it.

Take the leap of faith.

And if you fall on flat on your face, then get up. Get up and dust yourself off. If it was a mistake, then you will have to make a clean break.

Take a deep breath.

This will hurt. All of it hurts. It hurts like nothing else can hurt. But if staying around is more heartbreak and pain in the long run, then cut loose the ties and go.

Make a clean break.

Say it with me, readers: Goodbye.

Kenneth slumped back in his chair, stunned.

His cool, inner quiet fled. He wanted to rage. He was going to be sick. He was the one she cut out of her life. Carved him up and tossed him aside.

No.

He was going to reread her message. Analyze. Study. Create a chart and cross-reference with other texts, if necessary. He would break it down phrase by phrase, word by word, until he understood.

That last goodbye was for him. She thought they were wrong for each other. That he was a mistake. That falling for him had been falling on her face. So she was gone.

Damn.

It hurt, she was right about that.

Now the question remained of what to do. Respect the advice on her blog and stay the hell out of her life, like a mature, reasonable adult. Or go on a rampage.

He went to throw his lunch trash away and get some water. His grimace cramped the muscles in his jaw. She had taken her messages to the invisible public on the web—his domain. His universe.

Kenneth could play this game with the best of them.

Interlocking his fingers, he stretched his armsand wrists. He selected a document he had already started.

*** Readers: I will finish posting this story over the next few days, and then take it off Wattpad for publishing, date to be announced. ***