Staying Friends

“We’ll stay friends, though, right?”
He prepared to leave, my heart in his hand, squeezing it into an agreeable answer without even realizing it.
“Yeah, of course,” I said, hardly even stumbling as I choked back tears. Not now, I told them. Later.
Matt smiled his killer-smile and stepped outside into the sun-drenched Saturday. The day itself was mocking me. “I’m so glad that this went well, Elle. You’re such a great friend.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

He walked out to his red truck; the one I’d sat in the passenger seat of as we drove wherever life took us for two and a half years. Matt waved at me one last time as he stepped in, starting the car and driving away.

I stood there in the doorway, unable to move, until the red was completely out of sight, our relationship along with it. I raised a hand, almost in salute, and waved at nothing.

Bye, Matt.

View this story's 2 comments.