When you're looking into the abyss, faced with the love of your life wielding the heartbreak ax, you might as well stare into your postrelationship future. Take time to look around you. Mortimer's is filled with auguries of the long, lonely months ahead. Gone are the intimate hours of cuddling; soon your life will be consumed by interminable evenings of frustration played out at the Foosball table. The large, dim room is full of forced smiles on desperate faces and drinks that drown nothing. There have been reports of hot make-up sex in the back alley, but don't count on it, soldier. Be brave. Savor the pain; it should go away in a year or so.


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