I told you that I needed space. You walked to the other side of the room and asked if that was enough, and were disappointed when it wasn’t. If I had told you what I really meant, you would have left quicker than you did and with less throwing of heavy objects.

You told me that I was a fool and I couldn’t change your mind. I asked you to follow me into the dark, if forever truly meant forever. You said, “No”, and I realized that forever had never meant forever.

The clouds try and fog my eyes from the goal, but my eyes aren’t looking at what’s in front of them anymore. The air thins and whistles slower and slower like a fading voice reminding me that I’d miss her. It tugs at my skin and I feel the feathers slowly peel from my back.

Atmosphere like a bubble with a face pressed to the inside.

Push.
Push.
Pop.