She smiles softly and brushes his cheek with her hand. She's going to miss him, and she knows it.

she hugs him tight and kisses his cheek before stepping into the "passengers only" section of the terminal. her hand slips softly out of his as she pulls away. She can still remember the way his lips felt on hers last night and this morning as they were packing the last of her things into his little truck and then watching movies, cuddled up on the couch. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. So many things she wanted to ask. But adults dont ask those kinds of questions. They simply step onto their planes and quietly sob to themselfs while pressing their foreheads to the double-pained window, trying to see if he's still standing there, looking back for you. he isnt. he is. she cant tell.

what's wrong with her anyway? he wasnt anything to her. he was fun. a good friend who liked to play around. this shouldnt hurt like it does. why does this hurt?

she keeps doing this. finding someone good, and then stepping onto a plane to take her away. to solve the problem of possible break ups and pain. she needs to stop running away.

I need to stop running away.

but not this time.