Kiss Me Once Before You Go

Goodbyes are never easy.

The sad love songs always hit the hardest. Each one, no matter the era or even the genre of music, has the power to reach into your chest and squeeze your heart till you feel like you can’t breathe. Or, at least, that’s the way it is for me.

I can close my eyes and imagine the last times we were together, and each moment comes with a fresh wave of pain. But the worst thing, I guess, is knowing he’s still out there — living, thriving, becoming someone I’ll no longer recognize.

Ours wasn’t the typical break-up. There weren’t tears or screaming matches or even melancholy seconds of shared regret. He handed me his apartment key and said, “I can’t do this anymore.” And what could I say? The jagged metal of the key bit into my palm as I squeezed my hand into a fist. I just had to accept what fate had dealt me — or, rather, what he had chosen as our final moment as a couple.

That wasn’t the last time I saw him. He still had to retrieve his last scattered belongings — and of course he left behind a box of all the things I had given to him over the years. A frayed red scarf that had been my first attempt at knitting. A broken iPod with all the old playlists I had made for us. A leather jacket I had found for him at a thrift shop just a few winters back. The box was a history of things left…