Today, exactly one month ago, I knew that the end was coming the next day. It's odd that he is exactly where he was one month ago, working. Fitting, even. One month ago, I was crying in the backroom, but trying not to let him know that him working on our last night together affected me so.
One month ago, we went out on our last date at Plato, enjoyed our last creme brulee, laughed over our favourite moments of our relationship, listed the highlights that made us work as a couple.
One month ago, someone still loved me. I wasn't alone, just yet.
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