coffee no. 66

Saturday morning in the supermarket. Near the shelve with ketchups stands the middle aged man with the mobile phone pressed to his ear. He is utterly shaky, with the tears in his eyes. It's almost obvious that at the moment the woman he loves splits up with him. He tries to save their relationship, telling her something like this, 'All the sad moments will pass away. Believe me. Don't give up'. I stand some steps from him, thinking how cruel life could be. And how grotesque. Somebody's love falls to pieces in the sauces and seasonig lane...
Why do the very important things in our life end so pathetically very often?...