She casually removed a champagne cork from her handbag.
"That's very rock 'n' roll," I said.
"Actually, it was just cava," she said.
"In that case, it's very pop music."
She looked at me. "Wow, I've fallen so fast from the sublime to the ridiculous."
She placed the cork on the table. All those dates and here, in the corner of some bland pub, hidden in a group of people, was someone who made me go Boom. We had talked about travel and work and writing. But we weren't interested in travel and work and writing, that wasn't what we really had been talking about.
"I don't get it," said her boyfriend, "why is it like pop music?"
I looked at her. She looked at him then down at her shoes. I looked away and chewed my lower lip.
From the the sublime to the ridiculous indeed. On the way home, I smashed my fist into a wall and wished a plague of locusts on his house.
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