He presses play and hears to soft click of a phone hanging up. And then the second message starts. He hears her inhale. He hears the slight sound of her lips pressing together and opening again. And then he hears her voice. He can practically hear the liquor in her voice.

"Jess. I…I don't know what I'm doing. Why I'm calling you. Why I miss you so much todaytonight. But, I was in a bookstore today and for some reason I started to imagine that I would see you when I turned the corner, just sitting there. You, of all people, I was fantasizing about running into you at a bookstore. I mean, what sort of fantasy is that? What sort of person fantasizes about running into old flames in the philosophy section? Why couldn't it have been a more romantic section? Like, poetry. It could've been the poetry section. Or…even just the literature section. Maybe, I could've been passing over the H's and I could've seen Hemingway and then thought of you. But, not even. And I just got so disoriented. I stole three books, Jess. You are a bad influence on me.

"Another thing. It's been two years. Do you know this? Two years? It's been two years since you came to me. God. I must have ripped your heart out. I... I broke you. Don't ever forgive me for that. Look. The point is…after two years, I am imagining you in bookstores. This means something, right? Right. It means I'm drunk and lonely. But, I have Logan. And we're good. Right? We're good me and Logan? It's been almost a year with him. He's wonderful. And he buys me things. Something you never did. But, then, I never really had anything for you to buy me then. You could've paid for some of the movie rentals. Or, maybe the pizza. Wait, you did pay for the pizza. Sometimes. Anyway. Two years. And all I can think about right now is your face when I said no. It didn't change at all. What does that even mean, that it didn't change? You were always so...so stoic.

"Which of course brings me to another point. I wanted to be as strong as you. All those times when you would let me down, I wanted to not feel the effect. I wanted to be numb to it. I didn't want to be weak. Or dependent. No. And... Wait. Your machine should've cut me off by now. But it hasn't. Maybe you picked up the phone. Are you listening to me right now without saying anything? Jess? Are you there? Do you still love me at all? Is there anything left?"

He listens as she waits for a few seconds, breathing in and out. He faintly hears the pouring of more whiskey. She swallows and he thinks he hears her crying. And then he hears the soft click of the phone hanging up.