{To think I might not see those eyes
makes it so hard not to cry,
and as we say our long goodbyes,
I nearly do}

I can feel him watching me, but I don't turn around. I throw various pieces of the past into a cardboard box; pictures, papers, supplies that have sat on my too-small desk in my too-small office for too little time. I place the lid on the box, hiding the past from my sight.

Kind of like I'm trying to do by avoiding his eyes.

I take a last look around the office that I called my own for only several months. I don't want to cry. I don't want to think about the fact that I'm leaving, that we're being split up.

I know he's waiting for me to look at him. I can feel it in the air, the intensity crackling between us. He wants to say goodbye, but part of me is in denial. This can't be the end of nearly twenty years. I don't want to acknowledge the fact that I'm leaving, that it's over.

I also know that, if I look into his eyes, the emotion that's boiling inside me will froth over and spill out. I know that, if I look into his eyes, I'll see our friendship disintegrating. I know that, if I look into his eyes, it will be the end.

Boxes fill my arms as I attempt to walk by him, attempt to ignore the goodbye and the inevitable pain that will come with it. It's not like I'm never going to see him again; no, it's worse. It's the fact that I won't work with him again, that I won't get to be near him and around him every single day.

Tears build, and I know that I have to hold them back. Be strong, you're the leader now. But as his hand grabs my arm and he spins me towards him, the tears brim over, because we've made eye contact, and the pain suddenly becomes so much clearer now that I've seen it in his eyes, too.

Wordlessly, I let the boxes fall to the floor. I hear glass shattering, but it doesn't matter, because I'm wrapped in his arms, and his lips are resting on the top of my head. I hear myself whispering that I don't know how to do it, how to cope, how to go on without him.

He pulls back and looks me in the eye again. "Never doubt, never look back," he whispers to me, before bending to gather my boxes and place them again in my arms.

And I know that it's goodbye, because when I push through the door into my new office, into my new life, I open the box and see the picture of him.

And the glass is shattered.

END