From a shoe box in my closet I pulled out the last Kate Spade card I had saved from two years earlier. I wrote you a short love note, and stamped it with a kiss goodbye because I know you will be far away in less than a month from now.

As we lied in my single bed, we talked about love and what that word meant for us.

You said you were unsure about building a future for us five hours away from here, whereas there was a simpler exit had it been done here. And now I recall a conversation I had the other day with a friend. She said if fate pulls you away from something, then all the pitfalls that come with your decision to fight fate is your own fault. So I voiced the reality of a pending goodbye.

These moments haunt you. I choose that verb because you cannot escape those fleeting bittersweet memories, those first kisses, and all those misguided arguments that turned into yelling and crying.

I am almost relieved that it was neither you nor I who chose the goodbye. It was something in the sky beyond us, and that knowledge almost makes it easy.

 

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