Just One Look Was All It Took

Mack smarted from his latest rejection. He had scraped the barrel bottom. The girls in his haunts all knew him much too well.
After a night of bourbon-soaked soul searching, he recalled a blissful interlude of a few years ago: Matilda, shapely, stylish, quick witted. Why had they drifted apart? OK. So she’d moved eight hours away. He’d drive over, just show up, knock her off her feet.
Sharply dressed, combed, cologned, a little tired, he knocked. The door opened. Glances crossed, and they both knew.
“Why is he here? He’ll never change.”
“Why did I come? She’ll never change.”
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