Letting Go

It’s winter again.

My first without you.

Today is cold, gray, and miserable in general.

It matches my insides.

I wish you were here.

All I can think about is how we’d stay in bed on days like this, if you weren’t working, and just watch movies all day and have food delivered to us.

Christmas is soon.

I don’t want any presents.

I don’t want to celebrate.

What’s the point?

I just want to stay in New York, maybe get drunk with Gabe meanwhile all my other friends are out at Christmas parties or with family.

I do leave the apartment now, when I feel like it.

Like tonight.

I got sick of seeing the same four living room walls.

I had to get out of there before anyone came by to see how I’m doing.

I stop in front of that coffeeshop you liked so much, partly to get out of the snow that’s started, but mostly because I remember.

I step inside, ignoring a cheerful ‘hi’ from the counter.

I head straight for your favorite table – our table.

The one by the big window where you could people-watch.

Where I would watch you people-watch.

No one walks past today; it’s freezing and dark and snowing.

“Did you want something?”

I glance up to see the barista looking down at me, a small notepad in her hand and with a pen poised above, ready for me to speak my order.

Her nametag says “Cassie.”

“Oh…uh,” I begin, feeling foolish. I hadn’t wanted anything more than to sit at our table. “I don’t…”

She clicks her pen a few times and chews her bottom lip apologetically.

“I mean, I’m closing in a bit…”

“I’m sorry,” I immediately reply, starting to stand up.

It’s not that late. It must be Sunday.

“No,” she insists. “Really. It’s okay.” She backs away a little and I sit down again. “I’ll be over there if you need anything.”

I don’t need anything.

I don’t want anything besides you to tell me what I should do now.

Please tell me what to do.