The Favor

He asked a favor.

You see, she's never been good at goodbyes.

They felt... inauthentic..

Disingenuous.

And at times.. awkward.

Because most of the time, at least one person has to pretend.

Pretend the pain isn't as great.

Pretend it doesn't bother them.

Pretend it's all okay.

Pretend.

But he asked a favor.

That favor on the day she got the call.

The one they knew was coming long ago, but buried their heads in the sand

Below the buckets of hope that distance and temporary silence could heal the wounds just enough so they could be in one another's lives in the smallest capacity.

The hope that one day.

Down the line.

They would be able to check-in with one another.

See how they're doing.

Possibly run into each other.

It's funny how the gut knows and the mind battles.

He called.

And it was the call stating that hope wasn't feasible.

That just the possibility she could reach out.

Just the simplest hello.

The knowledge that their connection could be at the grasp of his fingertips.

A mere phone call away from provisional bliss.

From passionate love.

That feeling where two people become one.

Where time stops.

Worries fade.

Where everything they knew about who they were melted

When the remains of their melted facade revealed the pure core that intricately interlaced with another's.

Utter presence.

Peaceful moments.

Complete transparency.

Addictive vulnerability.

It was too much.

She got the phone call.

He's moving and changing his number.

And he needs know they will never speak again.

They will never see or touch or hold one another again.

A forever goodbye.

She told him..

She doesn't t do goodbyes.

But he asked that favor.

He said if he didn't hear her say it, he'll always have hope.

So she said the words that left the lips that felt foreign.

Goodbye.