Bye Bye

There is a special art to leaving gracefully. Don't slam the door, don't tear up letters, don't make a scene. Just gather what dignity you have left, take a deep breath and move on, even if everything inside is creaking. Because how long can you play the endless game of ‘what if this time’? It's diabolical, isn't it, to step on the same pink rake decorated with a ribbon of hope over and over again.

It's all familiar: the fire, the heat, the deceptive spark, and then the ashes and the faint smell of ‘too late’. And here it is, that very ‘Madame sait dire bye bye’, not restrained, but conscious. Without pathos, without drama, with a slightly tired but confident look. Just a lesson from the series ‘love is not a loan, the interest rates are too high’.