"Honey, do you remember that sticky hand that you bought me outside the K-Mart?"

"You mean the one that you throw on paper and stuff and it picks it up?"

"Yeah," he sighs as he turns his head away in deep thought about how to just say it.

"Well for the longest time I thought that this hand," pulling out a clear vending machine toy egg, "was the symbol for our love and our relationship. You gave it to me as a gift. Unexpectingly, and graciously. I accepted it and loved it. Just as I told everyone how happy you made me, I spread that sticky hand about everywhere. I shouted my love for you from the mountains and stuck the sticky hand to the kitchen ceiling." He pauses once more and collects his thought, if this is going to be done smoothly he can't loose it now.

"That hand slapped a lot of things and it pulled a lot of paper off of various surfaces, but over time it got weaker and weaker. The dirt began to stick to it. The dust drained it's power away. It wouldn't stick to anything after awhile."

The look in her eye and the direction of her gaze began to reflect just what it was that he was getting at.

"Just like our love," he continued. "It started out strong but over time the stress wore down the love and the small fights began to stick to our minds an took over the power that we once held between us."

One tear and then two, three...they all began to fall down her cheek. She knew he was right.

"Honey, this hand will always represent who I am and the many things that you gave me throughout our relationship. But to be honest, I have found someone new. Someone who showed me how to clean the sticky hand so that it's power is even stronger than before. When she first showed me how easy it was to take the hand in my hand and with just a little mild detergent and warm water clean it and make it new all over again...it was...just beautiful. I've learned how to love again and she has shown me."

Silence.

"Honey, please talk to me. Please."

She takes a quiet sniff and simply says.

"She can have you and your dirty little hand. The soap wears down the rubber. I knew that it would clean it, but I didn't think that it would be right to take anything away from who you are. You can clean the hand all you want, but soon enough there won't be anything left to throw around. Good bye."