Our relationship began the same way it ended: in light of all the little things.
In the beginning, they were little things like the little dots that never accompanied your “i”s.
Little things like how you can always find the big dipper, but never the little one, and how I watch independent films for fun.
Little things like the little sparkles in the skies. Little things like the little sparkles in our eyes when we would make eye contact for longer than any two people who are only friends make eye contact for… unless they’re having a staring contest, which we weren’t.
In the end, there were new little things.
Little things like how the turquoise straps of your backpack made their appearance concise, always leaving before a goodbye.
Little things like the darkness in the skies and the darkness under my eyes when we stopped having “staring contests” (you blinked first).
Little things like little replies. Little things like little lies. Little things like little ties, and little tries, and little good byes.