What goodbyes are made of (Part 5)
Is it raining where you are right now? It’s raining here. Quite heavily in fact. I am at the end of the story but it feels like the story’s just getting started: “It was a dark and stormy night.” It’s during nights like these that my heart tends to break with ink spilling out from the cracks. I want to call you up and ask you how you’re doing. My room is filled with letters I have written but don’t know where to send. How very inconsiderate of you to leave me without a number or an address. Hey, you wanna hear something funny? The other day, I thought I saw you going inside that coffee shop at the corner of our street. So, I followed you inside and tapped on your shoulder, hoping to surprise you. Turned out it wasn’t you. Sure he was tall and had dark messy hair like you. But I knew I made a mistake as soon as he turned around to look at me. His eyes were not the warm brown eyes I was looking for. They just looked very confused. What was I even th