She clung to him at the airport. The time had come to say goodbye. After weeks of planning, thousands of memories shared and a few tears cried, he had to leave. Something bigger called for him and he needed to cut his ties. Oh, how she hated being a tie. Still, a few more tears were shed before the last conversation.

'Can you believe it? After all the times we talked about running away to New York, it's actually happening,'� he vibrated with excitement. The voice in her head cried, heard it yesterday, the day before, and the day before. He continued, 'Although, it's not exactly the way we planned. Who could have guessed that I would meet Trevor and all this would happen? Isn't it fantastic? I never thought I'd end up in the city.'�

She tried to smile, 'Well it was our thing. All that talk had to lead to somewhere; but, they are calling your flight, doll'�'� With a final hug he walked away, calling over his shoulder of promises to e-mail and phone. So, she watched her best friend board the flight to his new life.

On the way home, she told herself what she was feeling was just departing depression. She was happy for him'� really. Never mind, that it was their thing, and now it was just his thing. She was glad that he met Trevor and was happy; it wasn't as if she loved him anymore. Or really loved him ever, if it came down to it. She convinced herself that there really was no jealousy involved. She just was going to miss her best friend.

The months continued as they always do. She heard from him occasionally, mostly e-mails. Each letter was increasingly happy. They had found a new place, and although the neighborhood was kind of rough, they loved it. He had a great job, one of the best places he had ever worked for. Trevor was getting gigs, wasn't that exciting. With each letter he signed it, 'Still doing our thing'�.

She lived vicariously through those letters. She imagined what life was like there, and the excitement of city life. It didn't matter that her social life was tapering off. She decided it was just a lull and would pick back up soon enough. So, she focused on work, cherished the letters, and thought often of him doing their thing.

As time increased the letters and phone calls completely tapered off. She left voicemails occasionally just checking in. New York was a busy town. He was caught up in life; he didn't forget her. How could he? He was living their thing.

In the process, it was obvious she was falling apart as well. The dwindling social life died hard. The letters she once cherished were read hundreds of times a day. Her work was non-existent, she was finally let go. Friends forgotten, chores were slid by, and life fell into disarray. Whispers followed her everywhere she went. Was she sliding into depression or into madness? Who was to know when she wouldn't talk.

Finally, when the breaking point seemed near he called. Tears flooded into her phone. He was coming home. He was lost now. Trevor was murdered in an alley last night. They had slit Trevor's throat. He didn't understand who would ever want to hurt him. He asked if he could stay with her again. He couldn't bear to be alone.

'Oh, babe'� I don't know what to say. What a horrible thing'� Of course you can come stay with me. In fact why don't I come help you in the next couple days? I'm in North Carolina visiting family, but I'll fly up tomorrow. I'll call you as soon as I get there, ok? Will you be ok, tonight? Is there anyone who can come over till I get there?'� After waiting for his answers, she promised to see him soon.

No she wouldn't feel bad. She couldn't feel bad. She chanted over and over again 'It was our thing, our thing. It was our fucking thing.'� As the red ran down the drain in the overpriced hotel's bathroom, she finally smiled. 'And, it will be our thing again.'�

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