I finally got to sleep when she told me she had gotten over him. It was a chance for me to prove I could do so much in the little time I was given.
His fragments were always there and I had to tiptoe past them. I always thought I had to prove myself, that I could be better. But how could you, when the fragments kept on coming?
What would you do, then, when the sturdiest of your yellow umbrellas couldn't resist the might of the blue French horn?
What would you do, then, when the gaze she had always fixed on you started to waver?
"Do I steal the French horn or hide under the umbrella?" she asked me one time.
It's when she actually has to choose that starts all the inevitable countdowns.
And I don't know what hurts more - that I had to see her choose, or that I know I already lost.