If my tears could fall they would, not silently, but they would scream out every word I wanted to say to as he told me the cold hard truth, which is always like falling when you're ice skating. First the icy wind blows through you, and though you feel as you're dying, you realize there's more. As your cheek hits the ice, the full truth, you're slapped, and in that instant, your body goes numb, and a dull pain roars through your body. As tears flood over your cheeks you give a small shuddering sob, of defeat, and the rest is a blur, other than the tears you've shed.

At night my heart cries out for him, when I'm alone, and missing him, the thing I miss the most is how he could kiss my problems good bye, with one look, a look that gives you more than any person could in your entire existence. He made me feel as though I was flying when he was standing by me, and now, alone I stand, my feet on the ground, no longer flying in the sky, with my head far above. I miss the way when I was upset, he would always be there, with his deep brown eyes, that unknowingly would tell me the secrets of the world, and somehow reassure me everything would be all right.

However, yesterday was different, he came to me. I don't remember the walk, I remember the anticipation, and the feeling at first crept up on me, like cold November, freezing me after the warmth of October. The moment I saw him, I knew something was wrong, and then the feeling came. The truth was buried in his eyes, and soon it would be etched in my mind forever. The pain, the suffering, more than you may imagine possible. If fear could play an instrument that day, it would have played the silence in the air. A cold wind kissed my cheeks, making them rosy. He used to chase away the gray in the sky, making my world sunny, happy, never gray, but he wouldn't be there this time. He wouldn't be there to chase away the gray, so my sky stayed gray, clouds, no sun, no light, and no love, no him. He told me to meet him in the park at four thirty, I, being desperate to know what was so important that he couldn't have asked me to dinner to tell me, was early. I was glad, in sorts that he chose the park, the spot where we met, where we first looked into eachother's eyes. "Late again," I muttered, tapping my watch with my index finger. "Four thirty five," I leaned against the tree behind me. He was five minutes late, no surprise.

Despite him being perfect in almost every way possible (and believe me, he was), he could not be punctual for his life. I hugged my dark pink parka tight around me. Aside from being unpunctual, he had also developed a resistance to the cold, or so I assumed. I honestly wondered what could have been so important that he couldn't have asked me to dinner where he could tell me in a warm building, a nice, warm heated building. Over a wonderful meal, with a wonderful man. The frigid, winter air chilled me right down to the center of my body, but not as much as the truth soon would. The gray sun barely made a difference in the temperature, and the simplest fact of the matter was my naive, child like, self didn't even see it coming. His behavior during the past couple of days was strange, but nothing completely out of the ordinary, nothing to suggest something was going to happen. Perhaps problems that he didn't wish to share, but I didn't mind that he didn't share them, I loved him for whom he was. However, I saw him coming, and assumed I would find out quite soon what was bothering him, in short, what I thought I wanted to know turned into something far from that, now I look back on it and wish that I didn't know. I never thought for one second it could change my life in one instant, but it did.

As his blue coat neared, I could see his eyes were locked on the ground, his face was slightly paler, and his gloved hands were in his pockets. The breath he issued came out in billowing clouds of steam. He continued to look down even as he was standing a foot, maybe less, but definitely not more, away. "Angie, there's something we have to talk about," he emphasized 'Angie', but I always like the way he did that, in fact, I liked everything about him. "Okay, sure, but couldn't we have talked this out over dinner? And you're late," I told him pointedly, and then frowned at him.
"Ange, listen, I'm sorry, really sorry," he looked up at me and lifted a hand to my cheek, softly. His brown eyes filled with tears, and he looked sincerely sorry. He called me Ange when he was upset, or when he was sad. I looked up at him, sorry I had wanted to slap him, and I'm even sorrier now, because he's gone. "Its okay," I said softly. He nodded, and continued. "Angie, this really can't wait," he bit his lower lip. "Mark, why not? Why couldn't we have dinner, and then you tell me?" this was making me angry now, I was sick of waiting. "Mark, could you just tell me now?" my tone was unintentionally softer, and his expression was a little subtler. I crossed my arms over my chest, anxious to hear what he had to say. He remained quite, however, and I knew I was going to have to be the one to break this silence. "Are you sure we couldn't talk about this inside?" I asked him, my eyes almost pleading his. He looked startled at my reaction, about how my tone changed so quickly. "Angie, I've been drafted," he closed his eyes, blinking back the tears that were sure to come. I gulped, thinking I hadn't heard him correctly. "Dr-drafted?" my breath was getting tight. He nodded solemnly, as I searched his eyes for the playful warmth I once knew, the same kind of warmth that would suggest a joke, just a hint, that was all I was looking for, but there was none, none at all. When I realized this, my stomach knotted, and I felt dizzy, and felt myself begin to sway. The knot in my stomach bubbled up to my throat. Even in the middle of winter, I could feel my face getting hot, my mouth getting hot and dryer, and I knew there was no stopping it, not now, the tears were on their way. I didn't know how fast it could happen, how fast your world can come crashing down, with just four words, my name being one of them.

Up until then I hadn't known what true love was really like, I suppose I was just a shy green eyed red head, with freckles, smart, slightly impatient, and undeserving of his love. I could never have began to compare my self to him, I felt like I never deserved him. And maybe it was true; maybe I didn't deserve him.