He approached me with footsteps gentle and soft, as always. I sat there, my head buried in some ancient tale. When I looked up from its pages I saw him. At once my letdown-weary brain began to race in effort to record forever what he wore, how he walked, the manner in which he spoke. There was so much music in his voice. Even this gave me hope against a backdrop of tears.

Those parting words were "we'll see."

Yes, he'll see. And I'll see. Maybe one day we can occupy the same room, I told myself if only to console the child inside my heart who cries to see love walk away.

A random song from out of nowhere flew threw my head, something old about "I Never Want To Look Into Your Eyes Again." Forget it! Do not, I repeat, do not sing that. The melody is too blithe and light for what this day has brought. I am on the edge of an apology, making excuses. He wouldn't want me to be alone. He wants what is best for me. I want it too.

So until he finally becomes invisible, I will linger here over a book and promise not to cry. No matter what, I won't let myself do that. I'll pretend as if nothing has happened. I feel these friendly footfalls all around, comforting me with false remembrance. For the moment, it is enough to keep tears from blurring the pages in my book, keeping them in focus. I have to remember that in the days I long for, there were still partings. Just because it is romanticized does not mean all was good and sweet.

I have to remember that this is not a tragedy.

A tragedy would be what would have become of me if we had never met.