The air in Mari’s tiny apartment hung thick with a mixture of dust and a lingering scent of lavender. Sunlight, filtered through the grime on her window, illuminated the chaos that had become their lives for the past week. Boxes teetered, precariously stacked like abstract sculptures, and rolls of bubble wrap lay scattered like translucent tumbleweeds. This was moving day, the final act in a relationship that had run its course. And, quite frankly, Mari was ready for it.

She surveyed the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Okay, last one, Doug,” she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the mostly empty space.

From a pile of half-packed picture frames, Doug, her now-ex-boyfriend, emerged, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was clutching a rolled-up, slightly worse-for-wear rug. It was a shaggy monstrosity of faded orange and brown, a relic from his college days that Mari had secretly loathed.

"Ready?" Doug asked, his voice flat.

"As I'll ever be," Mari replied, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

They’d been carefully wrapping furniture and boxing up memories all morning, a symphony of rustling paper and heavy sighs. The unspoken tension had been palpable, a thick fog hanging between them, a testament to the unspoken words that had led to this moment. But now, with the final act of departure upon them, a strange lightness had begun to bubble up in Mari.

Doug unfurled the rug, the shaggy fibers looking particularly bedraggled in the afternoon light. "This is the last thing," he announced, his voice echoing with finality. "The last shag."

Mari bit back a laugh. "That's kind of dramatic, don't you think?"

He looked at her, confusion wrinkling his forehead. “What do you mean?”

She gestured to the rug, her eyes twinkling. “You called it ‘the last shag’. Like, you know…the last shag.”

A slow dawning crept across his face. He suddenly understood the double meaning. His cheeks flushed a comical shade of pink. He’d never been one for innuendo.

"Oh," he stammered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "No, I meant, you know, the last shag of the rug! This is the last thing that has, like, shag on it.” He waved a hand at the rug. "I... I guess that's why I said it that way?"

Mari burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that was a welcome change from the tense silence of the morning. Doug, relieved she wasn't upset, joined in.

"You know, Doug," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "for someone who always picked out the most…interesting…" she paused, searching for a polite word, “…textures for this apartment, you have a remarkably innocent mind.”

She then grabbed a roll of packing tape. “Okay, Mr. Innocence, let’s roll up this last shag and be done with it!”

As they wrestled the rug into a tight, sausage-shaped bundle, the tension between them seemed to dissipate. The awkwardness was replaced with a shared laugh, a final act of camaraderie born from the absurdity of the situation. It wasn't a particularly profound moment, but it was real, and it marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

The last shag, indeed. And much like their relationship, it was finally, and thankfully, packed away.

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