"Come on now. Wait a minute."
She kept walking. The young man with short black hair tried again.
"It's not my fault."
"What do you mean it's not your fault?" She turned around. "Who the hell else's fault is it?"
"Well, it's not entirely my fault."
"No, I'm sure you were encouraged." The pretty young lady with reddish-blonde curly hair began to storm down the street again.
"Well, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I ever met you."
"Aw, don't say that. You can't mean it."
"I do mean it. Goodbye." She suddenly cut across the road.
Traffic began moving again. In just a few moments, she was gone.
"Why the hell did I get so god damn drunk last night?" he asked himself.