Page 131 of Goodbye Butterfly

Heavy.

Foreign.

I haven’t put them on yet.

I can’t.

Not when they feel less like a beginning and more like a severing.

Not when he left without ever turning around.

You didn’t even say goodbye.

I whisper it into the empty room, voice shaking.

And then I freeze because that isn’t fair, is it?

Hedidsay goodbye.

Just not the kind with hope attached.

Not the kind meant to be undone.

Not the kind that leaves room for a future.

He said the kind that ends things.

Cleanly.

Quietly.

Cruelly.

He said the kind of goodbye you feel like a blade between the ribs.

I press my fingers against the centre of my chest.

Right where his head rested that night.

Right where I felt him breathe against me.

Right where he fell apart.

And now he’s gone.

And I’m next.

I pick up the tags.

Thread the chain through trembling fingers.

Lift it over my head.

Let the metal settle against my skin.

This is it.

No syrup.