The last time I saw you, I knew it would be the last time. Isn’t that a strange feeling? To say goodbye to someone and know you’ll never see them again.
“I’ll see you in a couple of months,” you said to me, your mouth pressed against my ear. We were the same height. I felt the stubble on your chin brush against my cheek as you pulled away, the scent of you lingering for just a moment. Above us was a bright blue sky, an early morning sun. Shopkeepers were just starting to unpack the city, pulling chairs out on café sidewalks, opening shutters on the fruit stalls. A man wearing a loose suit jacket swept outside his bookstore, a steady rhythm of straw hitting concrete.
“I’ll see you in a couple of months,” I echoed, grabbing my backpack off of the cobblestones. We kissed one more time, a quick one, and you tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“Ciao,” you smiled at me.
“Ciao,” I smiled back, turning toward the train station, all the air leaving my lungs.