“But we can remain friends,” she suggested, trying to sound reassuring.
How silly! Why would anyone want a female friend if he already has male friends?
To wait an extra 30 minutes each time we agree to meet? To talk about shopping for shoes instead of the war in Ukraine? For even more of my hair to become grey? To listen to stories about her dates with other guys?
“It would indeed be wonderful if we can,” I said.
She had forgotten that I don’t drink coffee. Or she didn’t care. Or she wanted to show me that she didn’t care. I couldn’t ask anymore, for when I looked up, she was already gone. I was left alone with my thoughts, memories, questions and regrets, wishing they all would have left with her.