Charade

There’s nothing we can do for each other, X tells me, why don’t we stop this charade? We have to keep talking, I say, we have to keep striving. For what? he says. Happiness, I say. Happiness! That’s what they want you to think. Why then? I ask. Because we don’t know any better, he says, because we don’t know how to stop. Let’s carry on, then, I say. After you, he says. No, after you. This is hopeless, he says, there’s nothing we can do for each other, why don’t we stop this charade?