This Is Where We Began Our Little Story

 You smiled at me when I stepped inside the restaurant. The very same restaurant where you asked me out three years ago. I smiled back, trying to be polite, and walked to where you were, sitting down and thanking you for ordering my drink for me. You knew my favorite thing to order in every single restaurant we've ever gone to. You looked me in the eyes and told me how nice I looked after you took a sip of your drink. I thanked you, looking down at my own, brushing off your comment so subtlety it went unnoticed in your eyes. You pulled out and locked your eyes on your phone, creating this silence that went on for a minute too long. Like you always did. I tried to break the silence by asking how work was going for you. I felt a little better when you turned off and tucked away your phone, actually leaning in just a little and talking to me. You went on and talked about work, about how your boss stresses you out and how they fired your favorite coworker, but you seemed so uninterested when you asked me about how work was going for me. There was disinterest in your eyes and I can see you put your hand back in your pocket to pull out your phone again. I looked down at my drink, tapping the sides of the glass with my fingers. 

You placed your hand on my arm gently, looking me dead in the eyes and for the first time in months leaning in close and asked if everything was okay and for fucks sake you looked beautiful even when you were worried. I just now realized how difficult this was really going to be. I reminisced our time together. Every single goddamn memory came back to me at that very moment and for a split second I almost said that I just had a bad morning. I took a long swig of my drink, just trying to buy some time to think of how to say what I want to say to you. I set my cup aside and laced my fingers together. You placed your hand over my own and asked me again if I was okay. In all honesty I just wanted to run my fingers through your hair because I knew how much you loved the feeling but right now wasn't the time. I could only look at the subtle details of your shirt as I took a deep breath and said I think we should break up.

The look on your face made me want to go back in time and stop those words from coming out of my mouth. You never broke eye contact with me and I fucking hate you for that because the longer you looked at me the more I began to regret my words. You leaned back in your chair, letting go of my hands as you rubbed your face. You stared at me with this look as if you were thinking of something to say but nothing ever came out after what felt like an endless loop of silence and I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up to leave this damn restaurant, but you grabbed my arm and said I'm sorry. I sat back down, doing my best to avoid all eye contact with you but God, you're so beautiful. From the color of your eyes to the way you styled your hair to the way you raised your eyebrow a little when you were focused on something, I remember when I fell in love with it all and I knew it was going to hurt like a bitch when this conversation ended. You held my hand again and stared at your drink in front of you as you said I'm sorry . . . I understand. I wanted to make myself believe that you meant those words, but I know all too well when you lied and when you told the truth. 

We talked a little while longer; talking about how our parents have been doing and how life's been treating us lately. I didn't know what to do when it was time for us both to go. I smiled at you in an attempt to reduce the tension, but I didn't know how to feel when you smiled back at me. Did I feel guilt, relief, regret? I honestly didn't know, but I felt it. We hugged and said our goodbye's. You lingered into the hug and kissed my cheek when we pulled away. I went into the bathroom when you left the restaurant. Not because I wanted to use it, but because I didn't want to see you get into your car and leave. It hurt my heart too much.

I've been coming into that same restaurant every week since that day; always coming in at five, our usual time. I always sat in the same table, on the same chair, ordered the same drink. I stared at the empty chair in front of me. Usually I would have someone to talk to, someone to keep me company. Everyone that I was close to was out of town, so I had no choice but to sit here alone and drown in my own thoughts. I didn't know if I missed coming to this restaurant with company, or if I just missed you. You were always there, even though it felt like you weren't, you were there. I need to stop thinking of you, this isn't healthy. Breaking up with you was the worst best choice I have made, and all it did was leave me in this state of confusion. Memories of you flooded my mind constantly, memories of us. Memories of our first everything. Our first kiss, our first time, our first fight, our first trip together, our first time meeting each others families, our first dog, our first Christmas. Everything always came back to me. I hated it, because this restaurant is what started it all. 

This is where we began our little story . . . as well as where we ended it.