Post-undergrad part 2

Milton ordered himself an espresso. He didn’t feel like staying very long, and hoped to maybe find a story that he could freelance to the Boston Globe for the following Sunday paper, though the paper had already rejected everything he had ever written previously.
“Do you ever think about going back to school, Bob?” Milton asked.
` “I think about it, fuck, sure I think about it. But I can’t even payoff my debts to undergrad school unless I save up some more, but yeah, the hell is an architect without a master’s these days?”
“Yeah, me too. I just don’t know about being a reporter, it sounds like a right boring thing to be,” Bob said, “I think I want to go back into maybe creative writing courses, so I can play with language more, not to mention I can’t stand these deadlines anymore.”
Bob nodded, trying to feel sympathy for his friend, but he knew at his heart that his friend had no right lamenting to him when he had to go in for a 9 hour shift at a motherfucking chain pizza restaurant within the following hour.
Milton drank his espresso down with haste; it was warm and soothing, and cheap. He sat around for a few more minutes, staring into his friend’s blank eyes. What had happened to them was so obvious and yet so pathetic, he could barely stand to look at him.
Bob asked Milton if he’d like a sandwich, to which Milton politely declined. Though he did want a glass of water. He drank the water and bid his farewells to Bob, who still had an hour before he had to go to work.
He left the coffee shop and walked out into the cold streets. Boston felt colder every year, he thought to himself.
Early November and the leaves that were at once colorful and vivacious were now fallen to the ground, browned and decaying. He walked through the Harvard campus and felt nostalgic. All these students with so many bright futures, it had only been a year since he was one of them, and in that year he had lost any sense of himself that made him like them.
His college girlfriend, Jane, had already moved onto medical school, and naturally she fell in with a young and talented doctor, or at least this was the version Milton had envisioned. He did not truly know why she left him, but it terrified him to think that he had simply become “boring”.
It was three months after graduation when he got the message, a fucking message, no real goodbyes.
“Milton, I can’t see you anymore, please don’t call back, it’ll just make it harder.”
He was aghast as he listened, for 30 times in a row. For months afterward all he thought about was her, and the blood boiled in him as he knew she was out there living her life and he was stuck doing the same things every day.
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