It was the end. I could feel it.
Not just the end of the day, or the end of another of our casual catch-up sessions. No, not just that; it was the end of something more.
I didn't suspect anything as we laughed over dinner, or as we took the train home together, as you insisted (as you always do, the only one to always do so) on walking me home.
I didn't suspect anything as we laughed and strolled through the familiar streets (familiar to both of us), as we lingered at the void deck to say our goodbyes.
It was the hug.
Somehow it felt appropriate, and as the thought trundled through my mind, you moved and I moved and we awkwardly closed the distance between us. And I made sure to pet your back, because that's a sure sign of it being a just-friends hug. And we separated with me thinking that's the closest I've been to a guy in awhile.
Then I looked up into your eyes, and through it I simply felt- knew- it was the end.
But unlike the many other endings I've been through, this was a bittersweet one. Not one of relief. Not one of disappointment. Not one of apathy.
Nope.
It was one of thankfulness, of calmness, of fondness, of wishfulness, of lingering thoughts about what was and what could have been.
Thank you for letting me experience such an end.
And thank you for everything you have done (for it was certainly not me) to create this ending for us.
