It is morning in our gray car. We are still red eyed after a nearly sleepless night in a student apartment with dishes with smelly leftovers all over and accentuating creepy feeling of having to gasp for fresh air.
We leave the apartment before sun rise. As L calls we are two hours drive away. She sounds cheerful, or desperate.
“What about breakfast at my place?”
We are far away. Too far away. Not too far away to hear her disappointment. Too near our planned stop, the university where we met 20 years ago.
We will keep in touch. Virtually. In reality. Somehow.
We vanish away from her life, just vanish away with an aching heart.