He's leaving. There's no stopping him I don't know if I would, even if I could.
There are two of us here, even when I'm alone. We amble through the rooms and rarely speak to one another. We're alike in many ways; both selfish and sentimental.
He's taking down decorations and packing everything in sight. I follow behind him rummaging for my most cherished possessions. I beg him to stop and reconsider. He refuses to even ponder my request and claims there are no options.
He laughs, while things fall out of my grasp and back into the storage tub abyss.
He goes about his business--gathering trinkets and wadding my emotions into airtight bags. I can hardly breathe. I sit. I stand. I go through the motions. My feelings are ambivalent.
Go. Get outta here. You were a nuisance, anyway.
He zips his suitcase.
Stay. We've yet to change the world. Couldn't we try harder?
There's defiance in his eyes, and he speaks in abrupt audacity.
My time here is done and we both know it. You didn't, or wouldn't, learn near what I wanted to teach you. You missed opportunities that may come back to haunt you. You followed no one's rules, not even your own. You hurt feelings and played silly games. You harbored bitterness and held out little hope for your own dreams. Your faith dwindled and you didn't even care. I gave you countless chances to mend and search for answers, but you were too busy being busy.
He loads the last bag and slams the lid. He refuses to look at me anymore, as he heads for the door. His heels echo across the floor. I wait for the stoic gong, but hear my own voice instead.
It's not fair. You didn't grant me an extra hour in my days. There were times I wanted you to stop so I could linger in my selfishness. You kept moving. Whenever I demanded a slower pace, it seemed as if you picked yours up. I WANTED to be different--to change--but you had your agenda and I had to abide. I'm so fed up with you--you and your stringent timeline. Go. Good riddance. I have something you don't. I've got a new opportunity and I'll not screw up this time. I can change, you'll see. I've committed to a brand spanking new schedule and I've promised to behave. I'll relish every prospect and I'll work hard on my dreams. I'll mend my mistakes and cherish every moment. Most importantly, your leaving has given me the determination to rekindle my Main relationship.
I notice a slump in his shoulders as I finish my rant. He reaches into one of her suitcases and hands me a bag with my name on it. And then he speaks--er--whispers for the last time.
"I hope you're happy now."
For a moment, I just stand there and stare. I can't believe he is gone. Then, with new resolve, I make myself a cup of tea, curl up on the sofa and open the bag to reminisce.