The first days of January were fraught with tension.
There were these perfect moments, you know? These moments where the rain got caught in the soft light of a streetlamp as a girl in a white dress and a man in suspenders ran for the getaway car. Moments when all it took to feel alive was to sit in a chair with a cup of coffee, holding my boyfriend’s hand.
And then there were the ones that came later. The ones where we packed his life into a sixty liter backpack. Or the last prayer we prayed together before driving to the airport. And the moment he walked towards his gate, and I made myself keep walking, not looking behind me.
You can continue to read this post at Things to Come.
