In the beginning, things were perfect. We met at a small coffee shop and must have sat there for hours simply talking; it was the first time that I had connected with anyone so thoroughly on first contact. It was agreed upon by both of us that we had to meet again sometime soon and so we did; we met time and time again. We talked, we argued, we kissed, we made up. We were happy, and for a long while I was content with that. But then I decided that while your kisses were nice, they weren’t as nice as his and that, while I was happy with you I felt like I was floating whenever I was with him.

I think you knew what was coming because when I kissed you that last time you whispered goodbye into my mouth. That nearly broke me, you know. For a moment I almost wished that I had never met him and that I could still be content with the comfortable happiness and easy connection that I felt whenever you held me, kissed me… told me that you loved me. Unlike our other kisses this one tasted faintly of salt and seemed to be infinitely sweeter than those that came before.

Smiling shakily I break the kiss. ‘Goodbye,’ I whisper softly, trailing one finger over the length of your jaw. I don’t look back,