“They say goodbyes are the worst, and I’d wager there’s some truth in that. But standing here in the home we built, saying a goodbye we were never meant to say crushes me. I try to apologize for everything, stumbling over my words - faltering the way a newborn deer attempts to take its first stuttering steps. I don’t even remember what you said. What I do remember is the last moment we embraced, a weary, lonely ache settling into my bones.

I’d like to say you were the one who got away, but I had you. I had you and you let me know I wasn’t good enough. I shot for the stars and by some fucking miracle I actually hit the target. It’s funny, I guess the thing about reaching for the stars is that once you’ve grasped one it eventually burns you.

It was strange; standing there in the living room that we just fixed up together, your things packed in your ragged red Civic. I didn’t just lose you, you know? I lost your family too. They were good to me, and kind to me. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but that was okay because we had become family. In the long, slow, devastating blink of an eye, it was all over.

In the coming days and weeks and months, we’ll continue to talk. You don’t just stop meaning something to each other just because a lawyer says it’s over. But then the silences get longer, and the pauses are more awkward until finally, one day, I pick up the phone and I’m calling someone else instead.

I guess I’m calling one more time just to say—“

A chirp sounds in my ear, “the voicemail of this wireless customer is full. To leave a callback number, press 5”.