It was a Tuesday and you kissed me on the mouth. “See ya,” you winked, before walking out the door.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t “see you”.

You climbed into your car and you vanished.

I knew you were a vagabond.

A wanderlusting world explorer.

You refused to be tethered to a person, a place.

You eschewed all common social norms, electing to sleep alone in a tent in a park instead of next to me in a cozy 12th street condo.

But, of course, that made you all the more irresistible.

Because the more people run, the more compelled I feel to chase them. The more broken they are, the more I need to fix them. You were both, which made me simultaneously want you and want to help you.

In the gray aftermath of a breakup, you returned my lightness and laughter. You reminded me, just when I needed it most, that whatever I’m looking for exists. Even if it’s not with you.

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