I hate that I have to answer her the way I do, “No,” I tell her. I bet she thinks she’s gotten away with hiding her disappointment, but I see it. “That’s alright,” she tells me, even though I know she feels that same ache in her chest I do at the thought of not having another night like this planned. She can’t say goodbye so easily. Her pointer traces my collarbone when she whispers what we’ve told each other every time for years now, “It’s never goodbye. Only until next time.”
