Possibly.
Or maybe it was just a shit-ton of regret.
And pain.
That it had been so easy for her to leave me.
When I still wasn’t capable of giving my heart to anyone else but the person who’d run away with it.
“Let me know if you get any more signs, all right?” Was what I said, when my mind screamed to tell her I’d missed her, to ask her why, to beg her to apologize, to see where this could lead us, to ask why she was back in New Haven.
“Yup.” She waved and walked away.
The motion was so familiar.
The sight of her back.
The way she braced herself against the wind.
It was what haunted me at night.
The way she held herself so royally, while breaking my fucking heart.