The Jar

The night I should have lied, and how phosphorus was accidentally invented.

When I was single, I had an uncanny knack for making a bad impression on any woman I found alluring.

At a party, I had been talking to one of them, and for a brief, irresponsible moment, I thought things were going well. Light banter. Eye contact. The fragile beginnings of what could generously be described as potential.

Later on, I found the bathroom occupied. My situation was getting urgent.

I knocked. Nothing.

Frantic, I suddenly noticed an empty glass jar sitting on a nearby bookshelf.