Leave

"You . . . don't . . . want me?"
"No"
"Well, that changes things."

I can't promise you I'll move on, I doubt I'll ever will. But I promise to leave you alone. You won't hear from me again. I leave in a few months and this town will be nothing but history. At least I can say I have a year to look back on, maybe. Now the pain is to harsh to look back but one day I hope the pain will ease or I'll grow use to it and I can. There's nothing else left to my name, so at least nothing else can go wrong. Best of luck in all you do.