Nothing, he thought, captured the sadness of the end of a relationship more than untouched plates at a dinner table. Surprisingly, she hadn't seen it coming. The tears, the anger, the weak little punches on his chest were testament to that. She'd seen the recent arguments as inconsequential. He'd seen them as symptomatic of the whole relationship -- not a temporary blip, but a deepening chasm. And he knew he'd been right to end it. But as he cleared the table, something about the lipstick on the rim of a still half-full wine glass made him stop and dial her number.