You told me you live in your own world.
"Don't place too much trust in me."
You forgot what we talked about a month ago. Our conversation was important. It had to do with self-awareness and the color I'd recently painted the walls of my study.
"Forgetfulness means I never think of you when we're away from this place."
I knocked on your door and whispered goodbye. You looked up with tear-filled eyes; your left hand raised as a warning to not cross a line. I didn't bother to smile or hold your gaze or say another word. I turned around and headed down the hall. That was the longest walk to my car I ever had.
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