i.
i’d spent weeks fantasizing about how our first encounter would play out. how i would rise up out of the underground, face tilted upwards, meeting yours excitedly and embracing you wildly the second i reached the top. instead i was at a different terminal and you were at the wrong end of the baggage claim, and when i turned and looked up you were already there. you kissed me hard and after only being with you for three seconds i knew saying goodbye would be the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do.

iii.
i do not have a photographic memory, but there are things i paid special attention to; like the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked bluer in natural light, the way you’d sort of laugh and say “thank you” whenever you hung up the phone, even if the call was to give you a new errand to run that put you out of the way. how you looked after your sister and how you looked at me when you caught me studying your face. everything you did naturally amazed me.

v.
writing this is making me cry again.

vii.
i knew i was in deep **** whenever your mother tried to pigeonhole me into defining us. i knew i was in even deeper **** when you avoided the question.

ix.
the last night was the worst. i’d had a drink and i was already drunk on you and your hand was down my pants the entire way to your house. your brother was home so we went back to the car and made out in the backseat while i cried. when you pulled over and wordlessly walked me out into the rain in a dark park i was cold but i didn’t question it and i certainly didn’t have the air to question it when you picked me up and kissed me, hard. “your trip wouldn’t be complete without making out in the rain,” you explain, and i can’t help but laugh.

iix.
when the plane takes off, i look out over the city, watching as all the little bright bits and pieces become enveloped in clouds. i miss you already.