Don’t ever go.

Every photo has a story:

“Don’t ever go”, she said.
“Where?”, I replied.
That was not the right response.

There were about a million things that could have come out of my mouth that would have given her what she was looking for with that declaration. “Where?” was not on the list. In fact, it was within the assortment of things that made her think that perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if I did go somewhere.

She was coming directly at me. At approximately two thousand miles an hour.

With an all encompassing question about our love, the future, containment, and one of those hugs that when given, you feel the entire person being hugged. The type of hug that intensely invades the intimacy of that person’s neck, and goes as far as that person’s scent, their memories, their fingers, and the bed we had next to us. But I didn’t see her coming.

“Leave immediately”, she said.

And so I left. I left with the urge to go for a bike ride. I needed to feel the fresh air against my face.


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