i. I don’t want you back, not right now. The cavern in my heart where you belong got too small for you to fit, even before you left. I was uncomfortably squished by the end. I have some growing to do.

ii. Sometimes I wish that I had the opportunity to apologize. I’ve told you that I’m sorry time after time, but every word I say to you is laced with a new mistake. They build up, and high dosages can be lethal to us both if left untreated.

iii. We both know that this is not necessarily the end. If we play our cards right, we could still end up in that little apartment in Spain that we always wanted. The thought lights a fire deep down, and I wonder if I will emerge with glorious, glowing sparks, or if I will just be burnt to ash.

iv.  We were a tragedy in three acts, but now, we are an entirely different story in five. Shakespeare holds secrets behind his pen, and I don’t think even he knows how this will end, not yet. Perhaps the story will make more sense in the rewrite. God, I hope so.