It was early morning when I left him. The sky was a thin yellow color with the blue of the night lingering at the top of the dome.
My hair was a mess. Ratted and knotted in the back. I had just picked a scab on my face and now my chin was bleeding. I dropped my head as not to bring attention to it.
He was reticent as well- either unable to articulate how he felt or incognizant of it. His breathe was foul and he held back when he kissed me, perhaps aware of this fact.
The past week - two weeks even - I had spent more time with him than usual. I become more comfortable and slowly began to enjoy the feel of my fibers loosening.
But upon leaving, I did not miss him. I did not feel that longing to be with him, near him. And for that I am gracious; it makes it easier to be gone.
I am conscious not to tether myself to people with too many cords, and especially not at first. I threw one or two his way in the beginning, and but the distance I worked to maintain wore down over time and I am grateful it did. Grateful for the opportunity to have had that kind of relationship - the physicality, and the growing familiarity that came only with time, but not at the cost of novelty.
Yet, I don’t know him. It’s not because he is shallow or cold. Perhaps he is a lot more like me than I was aware of. Perhaps the relationship for him was exactly as it was for me? With few tethers.
Then he said goodbye. He said be safe. He said, “see you when you get back?”
Yes, see you then.