It is cold out tonight and I can see every breath I take in the San Franciscan air in front of me. I see the light switch from red to green and I know it is time for me to take the leap and cross the long street in front of me. I am not afraid of the walk, please understand, I am afraid of what is waiting for me on the other side.

And there you are.

Standing as tall as a mountain, looking quite warm in our peacoat, buttoned all the way to the top. You look more rugged than I remember; the scruff suits you well. Handsome as you may be, I’m still hesitant to give into your embrace as I step onto the curb, but I do nonetheless.

Your arms still feel like home, even though we’ve spent almost two years apart. I intended on coming here tonight and presenting myself as a mature, independent woman, but breathing in your familiar scent flushed that plan down the drain. You grab my hand and begin walking me to your favorite twenty-four hour coffee shop, as if it had been two days, not two years, since we last spoke.

You are the one man who broke me so easily, so of course you are the one I am most vulnerable for. You could tell me that you’ll be leaving again in the morning for another two years, and instead of storming out like any normal woman should do, I’d still spend the night with you, making every last moment worthwhile.

The coffee shop is almost empty, aside from a younger couple sitting in the corner. My guess would be that they are fresh out of high school. Their love looks innocent, free, and full of youth. I wonder if you can still remember when we were like that. So eager, but we weren’t even sure what for. Once we get seated, you hold my hand from across the table and begin telling me of your journeys.

It is hard to keep my concentration on the words escaping your mouth. Partially because I don’t want to hear about your amazing adventure which you left me in our sad old town for, but mostly because I keep getting lost in other thoughts. No longer dreading the thought of what could have been, but thinking about what the future could possible hold for us. Being with you is the most comfortable I have ever been, and probably the most I ever will be.

I hope you don’t ask me what I have been up to, for I feel my dreadful life would bore you, but you do inquire anyway. There is nothing much to tell you. My apartment, which we once shared, feels as lonely as a tomb. Though I tried to live with a couple of roommates before, nothing would ever work out. I am still working at the same mediocre job and though I have been on dates since you’ve been gone, I always compared everyone to you. There is no way anyone could ever compare. I notice that you frown as I fell you that, but yet you pick up my hand from the table and kiss it.

It was that moment which I knew I still loved you, after two years apart. Just as I knew I had to say the words to you, I woke up. The room is dark and cold as every other night. I look over to your side of the bed, even though I know you won’t be there. It has been two years since you left us, willingly with your arms in the air. Leaving me with so many questions unanswered. I tried to shake off the dream, which seemed so real to me, and get back to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I am anxious of what the world will let me dream up.

And there you are.

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