I remember you say: “Let me think about it”.
You did not.
For you, it was clear. You were ending it.
But I remembered you said: “Let me think about it”.
So I spent a week calling you, waiting for you to call, drinking in pubs alone or with my laptop, waiting for you to call.
When you finally called. You told me that you did, in actual fact, end it. A week ago.
I cried. But somehow felt a weight lifted off me.