Thinking about packing makes me realize how much I am going to miss this place.
It feels like a little death leaving what has been home for 5 months.
I’m aware this may be an end to us.
To the winter/spring romance that felt so easy.
To our friend group, the six of us, skiing all day and partying all night at Pete’s.
To the dinners we cooked in this tiny kitchen with two working burners.
To being the big spoon.
To showering together despite the **** water pressure.
To waking up with my head on your chest and feeling so at ease.
I don’t want it to end.
I hope it doesn’t.
But I also won’t try to force anything.
What we have is too good to end in strain.
If it has to end, I’d rather it end as it came.
Easy, out the front door with a smile on our faces as we laugh one last time at one of your dumb ******* jokes.