by R.T. Allenson
I looked at you, you looked at me and we felt nothing at all.
“Old Town, 6 Streets. You and I. We leave things in the old town.” you said under your breath. I nodded and walked on. I didn’t mind the heat of the day but you wanted to go home fast. We hitched a ride and we went home.
I turned to you and you turned to me, you handed me a note with something scribbled in it. I nodded and you smiled but I didn’t understand what it you meant, I thought maybe if I let you think I did, everything would be alright.
It’s been two years since that day and I’m at the corner where we hitched a ride, holding that piece of paper you gave me. You left that me with nothing else but that note, a note that said goodbye. I often ask myself what I did wrong but maybe some things are better left in the old town.