It's Over.

My cold is like the last date of a short term relationship.

It’s lingering.

It knows I want it to go.

It knows this relationship lasted far longer than either one of us would have expected.

Ice cubes have turned to water in his glass.

The check is on the table.

He's gathered up his things and said all there is to say.

One foot is out the door.

So why can't you just let me go?

Ok cold, this is it.

For real.

It's over.

You go your way.

I'll go mine.

This was never meant to be more than a weekend thing anyway.

So good luck with... you know, everything.

And hey, seriously?

Let's not stay in touch.