I can hear it in the distance, the train.
We're standing, staring at each other in the cold, wet parking lot.
You'd think there was a canyon between us, with all the silence of right now, with us facing each other, not a sound coming from my mouth, or his.
He's told me he's leaving, and I feel something, at the edge of existence.
I'm not sure if the thought hits me first, or him, but it's a shaky one when I open my mouth to take a breath.
This could end us, or begin this anew.
The tracks are slippery.
I find words, but he beats me to it, always the first one to make a move.
No words, though. Just the roaring sound of the train.
He hugs me, pulling me into an embrace, my surprised breath coming out in a misty cloud.
The train whistle blows, and I know that this is not a sweet, apologetic hug.
This is a hug goodbye.
At least, for a while.
It's coming, that empty feeling.
That cold, sharp sound, like breaking ice.
But it will not be heard, not for a long time.
Not by the important one.
Not for a time, at least.
Then, it will come.
The time when I've healed.
When I try as hard as I can with everything.
The time when I laugh or smile at every memory, good or bad.
That time is coming, I know it.
Someday, I'll come to find that my life has gone on.
And I'll hope the same for you.
It's coming, and, thinking about it now, I'm not scared.