Planted firmly on the outside, I look down this small broken stretch of road. I replay every moment safely until the air is soaked with the scent of your hair. In a frenzy I take off, sprinting to the end of the lane. My feet dreadfully linger in every stride towards the middle of the road. When I reach the end, I feel it. That same feeling of loss that I have experienced at funerals, the same feeling you get when you bury a pet. It is as if our love has experienced a physical death and I am succumbing to the pain of it's absence.
Turning around, I make my second jog down the dead end. I used to think of this as a pit stop for us. I was certain that we would recount those days to grandchildren. With every step, my eyes fog up through sour tears. The memories of you and us form a pool that I can not swim in. I stop towards the center and gasp for air. Yet still, the only thing I breathe in is the smell of hair conditioner, and all our broken promises.
