Of saying goodbye.

I remember you, that day, at the airport. I kept counting the steps to you, to your face. Of whose countenace I had not behold for years; but there I was, clutching my nerves, walking to you just to say goodbye. I remember your surprise. I remember leaving you to your friends that night. And then I remember your eyes searching mine as you said thank you for coming to see me off. I remember the past coming back to choke me; of writing cryptic poems to each other, of nervous attempts to wear our hearts on our sleeves. I remember the things we left unsaid.
Then I remember you turning around and walking off and never looking back. I remember wondering if you ever would.

I remember running, that night. Looking for something I was not sure of.