it's past her closing time. the time when, before, we would have been talking.
she's not back.
somehow i knew today would end like this.
not that that makes it any easier.
fuck.
it's like being in a restaurant and although they haven't flashed the lights or asked you to leave, the waitstaff is pulling all the other table cloths off, refilling the salt and pepper shakers, putting the chairs on the tables and blowing out the candles.
it could have been so good.
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