Prose, Writings

Almost

I was enclosed in his embrace, and he was kissing my forehead when the words escaped his lips.

“I must leave you.”

His eyes were almost sad, almost wistful. And I couldn’t believe how those words so painful and heartbreaking can be uttered almost lovingly, as if in reverent prayer, that for a moment, I wondered if I misheard it and he said I love you instead.

But then, I was left a hundred times before and this was all too familiar. So I nuzzled on his neck for one last time and breathed him in, memorizing his scent.

“Ok.” I said back, as I steeled myself for a smile. “I was left a hundred times before. You wouldn’t make much a difference.”

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