Last Words by Jeff Hill

“You’re late,” she says to him. 

“You look great,” he says to her. 

“Compliments will not save you.” 

“I thought flattery would get me everywhere?” 

He thinks back to the night they met. 

“I suppose people change,” she says. 

He sighs. 

“So what’s it like?” she continues. 

“The new place?” he asks. 


“It’s fine.  Just…  new.  How about yours?” 


 Silence.  She orders a coffee.  He orders a beer. 

“You should come by some time,” he offers. 

  “Maybe,” she returns.  “Or maybe you can come see me.” 


“Why not?  You afraid you’ll see him?” 

He frowns.  Chugs his beer.  Orders another. 

 “Some things never change,” she laughs as his second drink arrives. 

 “People do,” he smiles as she hides the tan line on her finger. 

  “How so?” 

 “Take you, for example.” 

“How have I changed?” 

“Your hair.” 

 “That’s superficial.” 

 “Your clothes.” 

“That’s just for work.” 

“Your address.” 

 “That’s your fault.” 

 He chugs his second beer and puts cash on the table. 

 “That’s not fair,” he says. 

“Yeah, well, neither is life.” 

He leaves angry. 

She sleeps easy. 

It’s over. 

Jeff Hill is a moderately reformed frat boy turned writer who left teaching after 10 years to split his time between Nebraska and New York.  His work has appeared in dozens of publications and his mom has copies for any doubters.  He is the Chief Creative Officer of and is currently pitching two novels.  Jeff is a graduate student at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, a regular participant of the Sarah Lawrence College Summer Seminar for Writers, and has served as a faculty member of the Writer’s Hotel since 2017.  Follow him on Twitter at jeffhillwriter. 

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