You probably didn’t think it would matter; you probably figured it was just a little affair and we would never find out. We’ll just go on and live the rest of our lives completely unaffected by it, right?

There’s some quote about leaving while the party is still running, before the dance ends. Defy that fallacy, please for me. Let the party keep running, let the dance ensue.

And every heartbeat, every step and every intake of breath and exhale of worry was a step closer to your leaving. 20 days. And then you’re back.

It’s too cold. The cold has seeped into my veins and my heart and my brain. I can’t do it anymore. I’m exhausted. I’m frozen. I’m stymied. I’m holding myself back. I stay inside because I can’t bear the windchill biting at my fingers.


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