Most of the evenings fell into a pattern. She’d argue, grab her purse and be gone out the door. It was effective; we had lived and loved together for too many days. I had to feel it and feel it I did. But I always had o let her go as I sat helpless in my chair and drank my whiskey and tuned in the radio to a bit of classical music. I knew she was out there and I knew there would be somebody else. Yet I had to let it happen, I had to let events take their own course. Charles Bukowski, Factotum.