The train station is crowded and the noise keeps banging through my ears. People keep pushing me as Paul guides me along through the mass of people, while he tries to keep me out of the fans’ view at all times. I thank Paul for that, because I don’t want the fans to see me like this. I’m wearing your old beanie, along with your old worn out sweats that you used to waltz around the flat in every morning. I’m tiny within the large sweatshirt that is engulfing my upper body, but I don’t care what I look like. I’m leaving the flat—our flat. Our flat where we had made so many fond memories, ones that I’m beginning to forget with each passing day without you here with me. We could have made more, had you stayed longer. And as I step onto the train, waving my final goodbyes to the city I have come to love, a single tear slips from my eye.
