Tick. Tick. Tick.

I see him open the blue carry-on on the bed and carefully fold his things.  He packs his toiletries last.  He makes the bed and makes sure not to leave too many obvious reminders he was here.

Tick.

We go downstairs and spend the last hours bundled up on the couch, holding hands and holding each other a little tighter than usual.

Tick. 

The TV drowns out our thoughts.  I squeeze his hand and try to memorize what it feels like to have him right next to me.  I do this every-time.    

Tick.

The first alarm reminds us not to get too comfortable.  He pulls out his phone and switches it off quickly.  He holds me tighter.

Tick.

He kisses my forehead as he strokes my hair.  His sweet whispers tickle my ear.  The knot in my throat grows.

Tick.

Last alarm wakes us up from the perfect dream of the weekend.  We make it outside to the car and I turn the keys.


Tick.

It’s like the middle console of my car is preparing me for the separation that is to come.

Tick.

Airport Exit, 1/2 mile.

Tick.

Car in park.

Tick. 

Why won’t the damn clock stop ticking.


Tick.

Steps, escalators, ticket counters, printed boarding pass.

Tick. 

Last few minutes until he has to pass security.

Tick. 

His arms wrap around mine.


Tick. 

“I love you so much.”


Tick.

“I love you more.

Tick.

“I have to go now.

Tick.

“Okay baby.”

Tick.


Gone.

Tick.

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