On the day my ex got married, I ordered a table of dishes and ate alone.

The waiter asked me, "How many people?"
I said one.
She paused for a moment and asked, "Would you like it packed to go?"
I said no, I could finish it.
In the end, I didn't finish it and packed four boxes.
I took them home and stored them in the fridge, eating them over three days.
During those three days, every time I opened the fridge, I kept thinking:
Am I really missing him, or just not wanting to waste that plate of braised pork?