full of moxie and viscosity

This is not something I can rectify, or nullify, or even make up. Not if I tried. He called me to tell me he had asked for her hand in marriage, and then flown the coop.
It makes sense that it would happen today, because this morning I was shoving homemade cookies down my throat, holding my debt papers at arm's length to assess the real damage; the perfect misaligned moment for the call. So come on! Did you think I would see his number and let the call drop?

And I spoke to you, this afternoon, with you sitting almost on my lap. You were cold and clammy in your nervousness. I spent only moments explaining with sloppy mouth movements how much I am going to miss you. I spent a little time explaining why I had to leave but really, you didn't want to discuss.

"Goodness, your arms are almost feverish," I said to you in a sarcastic attempt at remedy.

You didn't respond to that comment. You just asked me when I was leaving and handed me your door keys. You were crying last night at home in your bed, I could smell it.

Didn't you think I would see through your ploy to love me?
Let's talk one more time before this is over for good.
Let's explain to everyone here how it was "written in the stars."
Like the cliche maniacal tub thumpers that we are.
Then, I'll send you home with baggies of snickerdoodles and remind you that if you ever want me back, just treat me badly and turn your back on me in the night. That is how to win this little girl's heart.