what is wrong with this animal? i'm terrible

because i haven't quite figured out what to feel, a fictional interlude:

The song came on over the din of the pub: Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here'. He leaned towards her and said:

"I think about us whenever I hear this song, you know?"

She said nothing, and pondered the implications of what he meant. She reached for her glass, lifted it, then changed her mind.

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just something about how the song seems to just apply to our situation. Estranged friends? ........Something more? I don't know. It just sounds right."

She gave him a familiar look: that delicate mix of exasperation and total agreement that featured so prominently when things were more complicated. He thought about how everything seemed to have faded over time, yet the remnants of it all remained quite visible. The faded beer posters on the wall became a fitting analogy. As usual, that look just melted into a pained smile.

"What brings you back here anyway?"

"I don't know. Sorry, I've been saying that too much. Unfinished business I guess. Oh that's such a horrible cliche. Maybe it's just...."

He picked up his glass of beer and took a quick sip, as if to distract her. The futility of the gesture served only to heighten the tension. He both expected things to turn out like this and hoped that it wouldn't.

"You? Who knows? I just felt like coming back here."

She said nothing. This time, she decided that she would in fact take a sip from her glass. She shouldn't have picked that song on the jukebox.

in a most awful way, that little diversion went everywhere except where i wanted it to go. well, off to bed.