She sighs. Thoughts of him fill her mind, and she closes her eyes and lets her thoughts drift back to him, a small smile playing on her lips. He never fails to make her smile. Then why does she push him away, she wonders, thoughts of his impending departure pushing the smile off her face entirely.
She realises that she can't help it. Whenever he gets too close, she feels stifled. Claustrophobic, penned in by his sweetness, his similarity to her, everything that brought them together. She wishes she didn't feel that way - she's grateful for the good things, she knows... but what use is gratitude?
She's drawn to him... she loves all the little things that he does that make her feel so special. She doesn't want to let him go. But she knows that if he doesn't leave for a while, if they don't spend some time apart, she'll leave. It's almost as though the passion with which she's attracted to him pushes her away from him with its intensity.
And then she'd regret it.
Until the next one.
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