Goodbye

"We should've been something," she said as we walked to her car, "because I like to hear what you have to say and I’m going to miss the way you look at me."

We stood there watching the rain lance through the grays and silvers in the clouds. Every few seconds, the moment was highlighted by a half-planned flash of blue-white and given its rhythm by faraway thunder. We stood there in the rain, her eyes tracing figure eights around my face, both looking for something to say, anything to say, but there was nothing to say. We stood there in the rain, the wind picking up and howling its own goodbyes.

"You could always come with me."

I shook my head and laughed, the kind of laugh that says

"if you don't hurry up and go, then I’m going to show you what I am, and I don't know who that will scare more: you or me."

A spattering of rain traced down her jaw line, and she blinked away whatever thoughts were welling up behind her eyes. I told her never to give in, and she gave me a hug that would've done less damage to both of us had she let go a moment quicker than she did.

We stood there in the rain, wrapped up in one another like heart-starved lovers, and then, it was over, and she got in her car. We were careful not to make eye contact as she closed the door, but before it closed, I found myself saying, "hey, be careful. The weather's going to be rough today."