One day, she won’t love you anymore

She was always that girl who smiled at you, always that girl who lingered a tad too long at the door while she said her goodbyes. You find her nice in the way you find blue skies nice; and you find her unobtrusive in the manner of nice mahogany furniture. Sometimes, you find her interesting; but then again, you find lots of things interesting. So, what does it matter that she looks at you with sparkling eyes? What does it matter that she says your name like she’s saying it for the first time every time? The world is full of girls. This one is no different from the rest.

Late one night, however, your phone rings Hi, she says before her voice starts to break. I want you to listen, just listen, and not say a word until I’m done. I like you. I’ve always liked you. There are even moments when I think I love you. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it must be because I cry over you. It’s weird, you know, that I do because we only mourn the people and things that matter. So, I guess you matter to me, only I can’t tell you why or how because I don’t know the answers myself. It doesn’t matter, though. I am too smart for this, and too tired, and I know there’ll be a day someday, when the sight of you would no longer make my heart beat raggedly in my chest. That is all. Goodbye.

The line dies, and you never hear from her again.

Several years later, you will wait for the traffic light to change. You will see someone who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you could roll down the window and call out her name. You will never see her again. Whenever you hear the phone ring, however, you think of her. You wonder where she is, or what she does.

You wonder what she looks like.

You wonder what her daughter looks like.

One day, she won’t love you anymore. You know that, and strangely, this knowledge breaks your heart.

--from Leah's post