Rain pounded the windows. She sat watching it pool between the cobbles, wondering if she should ever go out again. Already he had left. Far across the country, to study what he called science, and being the woman that she was, she could not.

She did not know how she was to smile for another day, for all the days, and all the nights. Yet, the clock had long ago slipped passed midnight. The ink on the page for her very fist letter, dried. She would not remember when she slept, but if not goodbye, then what?

When you met a person each day, each and every morning, afternoon, and night, you must have left them. But she would only ever recall a million new meetings full of reasons to be in love. This was then, the longest meeting of her life.

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