Circa 2006:The Product of Notebook Searching

The first time we broke up he was smoking a cigarette. I remember because he kept looking at its lighted end instead of into my eyes. He never said any words that would make it final, and that's probably why it never was. He said, I won't be calling you anymore. He said, I hope I didn't hurt you. He whispered a lot and I stared into the sky because it was setting and before I knew it he and the lighted end of his cigarette were walking away.

the second time we broke up I was the one who did it. I drove to his parent's house and it was all business from beginning to end. I smiled at the end and he frowned. I kept eye contact. He wasn't smoking because he hadn't smoked in months. I congratulated myself on my way back to my car that this time, someone had said the words that needed to be said. We can't do this anymore.

As I pulled away I waited for him to do something. Take even one single step toward the car. But he didn't. He didn't even wave. I turned my eyes to the rear view mirror.

He would smoke again that night.