Today, from the front steps of your apartment complex, even the bright buildings and jade colored trees looked dark and gloomy. No amount of sunshine could revitalize you, and you tried in vain to conceal such sentiments. Sitting next to you was your boyfriend. His eyes looked as far down the street as he could see, downcast and regretful. To an outsider, the silence between you two was peaceful and nearly contented. You felt the same, but with an air of heavy melancholy feelings that was settling like noxious fumes around you.

He looked down at the white watch strapped to his wrist, a gift from you many months ago. The time ticked back at him, a taunt and a challenge. He sighed.

“I should go soon.” You nodded lightly, with your chin cupped in your palm as the silence returned. You weren’t sure what to say or how to say it, and feared that any attempt to do so would make the dreaded moment arrive faster. Perhaps if you ignored it, such fears would disappear. If neither of you stood up, neither spoke nor acknowledged the passing of seconds, maybe time would stop completely. You could sit on those stairs forever, and never face the future’s reality.

The quiet ticking from his watch reminded you that time stops only in fantasy. Every second of silence was going to add to the months of silence that would soon fill your apartment, and with that you erupted. You grabbed his arm with near desperation.

“I can’t believe you’re going! I’m going to miss you. Please hurry back!” He smiled sadly, wrapping his arms tightly around you and kissing the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, yet you attempted to look up into his eyes. They seemed almost liquid, as though the slightest movement would have them spill over. “Don’t forget me,” you whispered, voicing your fears in three soft words. He laughed and you closed your eyes, saving the sound in your mind to play over and over again.

“Impossible. I could never do that.” You smiled sweetly, resting your head back on his chest. It was tempting to welcome the silence once again; to freeze the moment and remain sitting forever. You sighed.

“Okay. I guess you should go now.” A feeble whine escaped his lips and he opened his mouth like a small child. Had the moment been less downhearted, you would have for behaving childishly. “Don’t make me force you to go. Because you know I won’t.” He laughed and stared at you, as though he were photographing your expression with his eyes.

The goodbye lasted mere minutes, and he opened the car door, sitting down with dissatisfaction. He rolled down the window, beckoning you towards it. One final hug, one final kiss. This wasn’t really goodbye, yet it felt as though your lives had been signed away. You were young, uncertain, and two years felt like an eternity. You waved to him as he drove away, your glances only breaking contact when his car was out of sight.

The tears you hadn’t realized were falling had begun to dry on your cheeks. As you sat in the uncomfortably quiet kitchen, you traced your fingers lightly upon a watermark on the table. It was from a coffee mug, placed by him every morning after you woke up. You found a paper and pen and began to write the first letter. It was old-fashioned perhaps, but offered a level of intimate communication unique to the handwritten word. As you wrote, your other palm rested above the watermark, a reminder and a promise of his return.