Almost

We we’re scrambling for words, building sentences from apologies. How many ways are there to say sorry. What other phrases can we stitch up before we end with goodbye?

We held on to that phone call like it was the only thing keeping our fragile little door from being locked. And as we sat there in silence, our vast oasis of vocabulary all dried up, I cannot begin to fathom how many long nights I’ll spend thinking how we could have had it differently. Maybe we could have tried. And even if we would inevitably fail, I’d like one last car ride home. No arguments, no stupid petty fights. And maybe then, I’d lock in that memory and wash out all the bad ones, just remember you in that one fleeting moment of bliss.