grey sky morning

I stare at you as you sit before me, devouring your dinner with the hilarious speed that was always one of the quirks I loved about you. You catch me staring at you, and you smile. "So, how are things?"

I shrug. "Same old. You?"

"Same old boring me," you reply in that adorably humble way you always had. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

"I know. I'm in self-exile." I laugh, then turn serious. "I've missed you."

"Aaaaw. I'm touched."

It's funny how we're just friends now, how we can sit here and talk about mundane things like nothing ever happened between us. It's strange how our conversation seems so forced and awkward, when you used to be the only person in the world I could bare my soul to. It's scary how easily we let each other go, when we both knew what we had was different.

If soulmates are real, then you were mine. But you've moved on, and so have I. We've grown. Apart.

You're suddenly serious as well. "That day..." you trail off.

You don't have to say anything else for me to understand. That day. How could I not remember?

"That day -- why did you walk away from me?"

I'm caught by surprise. I glance at the other table, not wanting to meet your gaze.

The silence hangs in the air. You're waiting for an answer.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. It's not that I want to start this again. I know it's over. But there's this nagging voice at the back of my head that keeps asking me what went wrong between us. I guess... I just want to understand why, so I won't make the same mistake again."

I swish my coffee cup around, watching as the dregs of coffee slowly settle on the bottom of the cup. Finally, I dare to look up and meet your gaze.

"I was so in love with you it scared me."

The doors of the restaurant swing open before you can react. She walks in and waves at us.

She doesn't know.

She thinks we're just friends.

But we are friends. That's all we are now. That's all we can ever be.

I gaze at her and see how much better she is than me in so many ways. "She's wonderful," I say, setting my cup on the table and gathering my things. "You two are very lucky to have each other. Have a safe flight back, okay?"

You reach out for my hand. My fingers entwine with yours -- but our hands no longer seem to fit perfectly anymore, the way it used to. We let go quickly, because we're nothing more than friends now.

So this is what good-bye feels like.

But it's not so bad
You're only the best I ever had
I don't want you back
You're just the best I ever had
- Best I Ever Had (Grey Sky Morning)
Vertical Horizon

the subway

10am. The girl stares blankly outside the train's windows, watching as a blur of fluorescent lights and dark tunnels rush past. Beside her, a man, almost the same age as she, is indifferent to the world as he scribbles on a large notebook on his lap.

The train stops abruptly, and he drops his pen on the floor. The clatter draws her from her oblivion. As he stoops to pick his pen up, she catches a glimpse of the pages of his notebook. Sketches fill the page, colorful and yet darkly haunting.

She is strangely drawn to this man's work. "Those are really good," she blurts out, unable to contain herself. "You're an artist?"

The stranger looks up, surprised. "Erm… yeah, just as a hobby." He hesitates for a bit. "I've done these other stuff, too," he adds shyly, flipping through the pages of his notebook. She peruses the sketches, each one painstakingly drawn using ballpoint pens.

"Do you draw?" he suddenly asks.

"Oh-- oh, no." It's her turn to be surprised. "I don't. I mean, I can't draw," she stutters. "I wish I could, but I can't."

He smiles at her.

She smiles back.

They lapse into silence, and once again the stranger turns to his work. She turns back to the dark windows, occasionally stealing glances as the stranger weaves magic across the page.

Later. The subway train slows down as it approaches the next stop. "Well... this is my stop," she tells the stranger as she gathers up her things.

"Mine too," he replies, following her to the train's doors. She fidgets with the strap of her bag uncomfortably as they wait for the doors to open. The seconds tick by like an eternity.

"Thank you," he suddenly whispers to her as the doors swoosh open.

She shrugs and smiles at him as she steps out onto the platform.

"No, really," he adds, following her. "It's just that… no one's ever told me that before."

She's surprised by the honesty in the stranger's voice. "You're welcome," she replies softly. She begins walking towards her exit as the stranger turns away.

"Hey," the stranger calls again, almost as an afterthought. He touches her shoulder lightly with his hand.

She turns, and finds herself staring into his soulful gray eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates. "I… erm… do you know which way goes up to Sheppard?"

She looks down, trying to hide her disappointment. "I don't know," she replies. "I'm not from around here." She couldn't understand why she felt that way. She didn't know what she was expecting, but his eyes seemed to tell her more than what he was saying.

"Oh." He stays rooted to his spot, biting his lower lip as he tries to think of something else to say.

They stare at each other then, words failing them.

And in that moment, they made a connection.

But she looks away, because she believes that moments like these could not possibly happen. Because magic only happens in stories, and never in real life. "I have to run," she whispers, turning away.

And she walks away from the man that could have made her believe in magic.