​One, Two, Three…Gone

I know you. I know you so well, I could chart your movements in the dark. This is your vanishing act—the one you’ve perfected over time. One step, two steps, three… and then, like smoke in the wind, you’re gone. I’ve seen it before. I’ve watched it unfold so many times that I’ve memorized the choreography. I could decipher the trick blindfolded.

I know the steps you take as you retreat. I know the silence, the hesitations, the nuances of your voice and expressions as you perform. The way you linger just long enough to leave a taste behind, but never enough to stay. I know this act. I know it so well I could recite it back to you, word for word, pause for pause.

But the cruelest part is that even though I know the ending, I still hoped this time would be different. I still wanted to believe that this time, you’d stay.