We’ve set a date for Monday, mid-afternoon.
There was much you mentioned you needed to discuss.
I am reticent over seeing you.
I am eager…
Regarding the news.
Something I’m more curious of is: what will my reaction be.

Sitting here on the telephone listening to your sweet pubescent voice. Hearing yours and my caring words.
I wonder how we ever traveled to such an awkward destination.

Our first meeting was in the oddest of places, a waiting room. We Both had applied for the same position. After the interview you asked me to join you for breakfast. I was so excited, and relieved, because it was you who asked me. We walked there, sat, eat and carried on a comfortable dialogue. And I recall you saying how queer it was that you hardly knew me, but felt fine sharing very strong emotions and your most private thoughts with me.
And I, I just thought you were beautiful.
Many days, and the many nights after the day we spent together. Sleep had become an unheard of entity for us there was the staying out late nights, early morning work outs, waiting up for one getting out of work, just so we could text or talk more on the phone. I was happy; I was tired. You seemed happy, but so tired. The latter for each of us both did not matter, because we continued on the same.

The moment I remember most vividly was when we both stood in the sea. A huge wave came crashing against the shore before it crept back out into itself, this time taking me with it. But you grabbed my hand. I thanked you then attempted to let go. But you didn’t allow me too.

We never seem to talk about that moment…

We’ve set a meeting time for Monday, Mid-afternoon.
I am anxious.
I am curious.
I am preparing my reaction for both savory or tasteless news.

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