Coffee mugs clinked together as she pulled one off the shelf. Steam rose up from the poured hot coffee, fogging up the wire rim glasses balanced on her nose. She took the glasses off, wiped them against her icing stained apron and then returned them to her face, her hazel eyes magnified by the thick lenses. The spoon scraped the bottom of the sugar dish before she withdrew a heap of white crystals. The clock above her head ticked loudly, and the smell of fresh coffee choked the air of the small shop. She glanced over at the couch I sat on. I absently picked at the crumbling brown leather on the armrest. I watched her over the rim of my coffee mug. We briefly made eye contact before she dropped her attention back to the mug in her hands. She rested her elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug, her palms half covered by the sleeves of her black sweater. She moved her head to look out the window, the freckles on her pale cheeks were striking in the natural light.
Learning to Walk Again
I’ll be the first to admit that ending a relationship is terrifying, especially one that you lived in, grew in, and adored for five years. It’s one thing to end a relationship with a big blow out that results in both of you saying it’s done, but ending a relationship that only one person wants ended is worse. I grew apart, fell out of love, and had to break the heart of someone I had been attached to for so long. As an extremely empathetic person, I often ended up putting aside what is best for me to avoid hurting someone else, making this decision one of the hardest and most selfish things I had ever done. When you spend the better part of your adolescence and early adulthood with someone, your personalities become melded together. You grow and learn to navigate the adult world together. Ending that relationship meant that I had to start all over. I needed to learn to be who I was without that other person.