We are sitting in the same coffee shop I fell in love with him in, but it is different now. I look up and he is still looking at his hands. Eyes are on his callused palms, twiddling his thumbs and I still love him more than I ever have. He looks up with an innocence that only a child could have. I think of how he is thinking about her. I wonder if he even sees me or just the ghost of a girl he almost loved.
"You know this isn't easy for me. You know that," he mumbles, looking down again.
"Do you think this is easy for me? I have to sit here and watch you fall in love with someone else when all the while I am having to convince myself that eventually things will get better, people tell me that eventually things will get better. I can't tell you the amount of times you would have received a phone call but didn't because I knew you wouldn't answer. I don't know what you expect. This isn't easy for me either, this isn’t easy at all."
We sit in silence for a moment. I almost cry but I refuse to show any more weakness than I already have, he doesn't deserve to see me hurting. He wouldn’t understand. The silence falls heavy on the wooden floors. And after a few long seconds of it all he can manage is,
"I'm sorry."