Whose Fault

Open by describing what happened in a way that quietly assigns fault. Push off from this if it helps: a song you only half remember.

The guitar went quiet. Just like that bridge in that song we used to hum, trailing off into static. You stepped out of the rhythm. I tried to keep the beat, but you left me holding the silence. Not my fault. Your timing…

Start by being extremely calm about something you are not calm about. Push off from this if it helps: escalators.

The escalator is just a mechanical flaw, Lena. It doesn’t care about us. It breaks because it’s old, not because we were careless. I saw the smudge on the railing. It wasn’t mine. I wiped the child’s hands before we…

Open by describing what happened in a way that quietly assigns fault. Push off from this if it helps: the smell of rain on hot tarmac.

The smell of rain on hot tarmac, always that heavy, metallic scent that hits you right before everything goes sideways, is exactly what was in the air when you decided to leave the gate unlatched, despite I telling you…

Start by being extremely calm about something you are not calm about. Push off from this if it helps: a song you only half remember.

It's perfectly fine, Sam. Really. I don't even care that you lost the record. It was just that one melody, the one with the bridge. You kept saying it was "essential," remember? Essential. Like anything. Now I can't…