Facing inevitability is weird. I love you today, always tomorrow, but never again shall I see your face.
It’s terrifying. Beautiful and sad. The way life, or my life, tends to be.
And so I’ve one more week with this idyllic angel, and then we must worry about tomorrow, and all tomorrows after. What’s to be done when love is stretched over thousands of miles?
I honestly don’t know what to do. It’s terribly frightening.
But we’ll always have this month. These perfect weeks.