If we Were to Meet Again
If we were to meet again, I'd throw olives at your head, I wouldn't even care. I don't know why I'm imagining olives, but now that I think about it, they'd be perfect, as it'd be annoying and demeaning, but also you could probably laugh about it later with your new girlfriend. If I was certain that everything we had built together would crumble into dust, that we'd never see eye to eye again, that I was free to burn that last bridge, I think I would do it, just to get that last bit of closure.
If we were to meet again, I'd actually keep a ready jar of olives in my handbag like a total maniac, so I could quickly pull them out and start bombarding your stupid pea coat as soon as you'd say hello. You know what you did. My days, I can't imagine how therapeutic it'd be. I hope some would hit you in the face, or fall through your collar, inside the shirt, so that you'd have smelly olive grime on bare skin, and no choice but to go home and shower before getting on with your day.