Last Time

A skipped heartbeat. A lifetime on pause in that one moment; everything suspended in the silence like a held breath. I miss you. Why have you not walked my path this time? How is it possible to reach the end of days without you? The memory of the stories we wrote together burning like the last embers of a fire, glowing hot yet beginning to fade. 

Flashes of something previous; a stolen look, the sound of ice cubes swirling in a whisky glass, the smell of the pavement on a hot day after rain has fallen.

Breath. Desire. Longing.

How did I find myself so far away from you? All those times we almost were. The lift door closing just a little too soon.  Theatre tickets booked for the wrong night. Not being in the mood for Italian food. Forgetting my umbrella and walking head down to work. And, most catastrophically, the 14:50 from Brighton delayed on a warm June day. Wait around or get the bus? How could I have known that the choice made would send us in different directions forever?