Word Vomit

Five

He told me to meet him in front of the lamppost in the corner of her block. I — a little over 5 feet tall, agreed with the hope that he'd finally take me to see her. Sitting on a bench a little over 5 meters far from said lamppost, I thought of what I'd say upon meeting you.

Will a simple "hi" suffice? I laughed at the thought of how awkward the mood will be the moment you arrive. If you asked me to come here 5 years ago, this underlying anxiety upon seeing you probably wouldn't exist in the first place. 5 years ago, we probably will arrive at this bench, hands holding, silly smiles drawn on our faces and eyes that screamed of everlasting lo —.

You arrived.

I tried hard not to stare at how happy you looked — how your fingers were intertwined with hers, how your smile was as bright as the heavens, how your eyes were —

"Hi"

"How are you?"

"I'm good. Good. You look happy"

He smiled again. That darn smile.

"I am. Thank you"

I'm sure there was so much more that you wanted to add to those words of gratitude. I knew and I wanted to ask. For what? But I knew the answer all too well. I knew the words you wanted to say despite staying silent.

Thank you for letting me go.