Madrid / Musings

The words of another that perfectly capture sentiments of my own.

Thought Catalog

I don’t really remember the leaving.

I remember the two short-lived hugs at my terminal. I remember the hand full of salty tears that outlined our goodbye and I remember my hands holding onto my bags so tight that my knuckles lost most of their color. I carried them through the sliding glass doors and further forward, until my fingers began to tingle. And I didn’t check to see if they were still standing there behind me. But I didn’t have to turn around to know for sure. They were waiting until I disappeared, I could feel it.

I remember falling asleep and waking up to the tip tapping of the rain. It kissed me hello through the windows of my cab. And it was windy that day so the drops moved sideways before they rushed off the glass. My driver was speeding over the bridge, like he knew I…

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