“Hey can we talk this afternoon? It’s important.”
Oh God, he knows.
“Yeah sure.”
“Alright, great see you outside the library?”
“Sure,” I swallow hard and hang up.
He knows.
I pace the floor of my dorm.
He knows I don’t want this relationship anymore. Eight months. He knows I’ve been talking to the guy from my biology lecture. He’s going to be angry. We’re going to break up.
I’ll break up with him. I’ll escape unharmed. I’ll be okay.
Three o’clock rolls around.

--

“He can we talk this afternoon? It’s important.”
“Yeah sure.”
“Alright, great see you outside the library?”
Our favorite spot.
“Sure.” She hangs up.
I am in love. After eight months I can tell her I love her. She saved me from a bad relationship and built a better one. She makes my heart so warm every time I see her. I love her so much. After eight months, I can confirm that I am no longer afraid to fall for someone.
Three o’clock rolls around.

--

“Hey,” he smiles.
That smile does not say break up.
“Hi, so the important thing. I have to say something too. But you first,” I tell him.

--

“But you first,” she says. Her hair is perfect. The light breeze picks it up off her shoulders and rests it down again. Her eyes look beautiful in the sun, almost golden looking.
“So, eight months,” I finally say. She nods. “Well, I… I am in love with you.”

--

“I am in love with you.”
The words close like a bear trap on my throat.
“I’m breaking up with you,” I choke out.

--
“I’m breaking up with you,” she mutters.
The words close like a bear trap on my heart.
Eight months.
Gone.

--

Eight months.
Gone.