Noodle's new girlfriend looks like her only different

"You want the last tuna roll," she asked, eyeballing him across the table.

He watched as she clicked her chopsticks and then rubbed one along her bare arm. The tattoo was no longer startling even next to the blanched utensil.

"Huh? Umm, no, no thanks," he replied. He glanced around the dining room at Lin Seng's and wondered just how much time had really passed. How long had he been out of it or how long had he been too invested in reality, he wasn't really sure.

"You okay?" she asked him, between chews.

"Yeah."

"I mean, you haven't said much at all and this is your favorite place. You seem distracted."

Noodle looked down. He had no idea why he'd done this. He wasn't ready, didn't know this person either, anymore than he ever knew anyone else before. And damnit if she wasn't just an edgier copy of the one before her.

"It's nothing," he began, twisting his napkin. "I mean, I've had a rough week, man. You know? I'm all, well you know how I can be sometimes."

Rough wasn't exactly it. He'd found out too much reading the paper. She was alive and in a slow, painful recovery. Guilt was eating him and now....well, he didn't know just what now. All he knew is that he couldn't turn whatever the gut check was, off.

"You know you can tell me," she interjected, breaking his silent pondering.

"Huh?"

"Damnit," she started, "This is the problem. Right here. This." She dropped her chopstick on the table. "If I wanted to be ignored and treated like everyday waste, I'd have stayed with him."

"I'm sorry okay? We good?"

"No, we're not good."

"Maybe we should split then," Noodle commented absently, realizing just then that he meant it.

"What the fuck?" she spat back, glaring, her eyes then brimming with tears.

Damn, not again. This is how the shit always started. He always got to this place where there was weeping, anger, and his slow skulk out to his car, alone.

"I can't do it," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Fine," she said quietly. "But I'm never gonna be her. Don't think I don't know."

He watched as she left the restaurant, her wet chopstick at an angle against the last of the tuna roll. He decided he was hungry afterall.