Five Minutes, Fifteen Paces.

Thursday morning, she steps out of the car, and walks toward the pond — looking back to ensure he’s following.

Silence creeps in as she takes aim with the 135mm lens on the camera her father gave her. Her heart begins to thud slowly. And she wonders. And then she knows.

She didn’t imagine it would end like this. She didn’t imagine it would end at all, but if he was going to tell her they were through, what a way to do it.

The image at the end of the lens blurs. A pond she will never forget. A tear she can never wipe away. Eternally frozen at the touch of her finger. She doesn’t want this moment to end, he starts to talk. He says in just five minutes we will have known each other four years. She wonders if this is part of the break up or just a distraction, she feels angry, he should just say it.

He tells her this is the same place we met, just 15 paces east of where they stood. Five minutes, and 15 paces. He takes her hand and tells her, he has something to say in five minutes, and 15 paces to the east.

They start to walk. Its Thursday morning, and their 14 paces from the place they met, and their eyes are locked.

Keep walking, eight paces away and he still has her hand. Five paces away she looks down. When they reach two paces she struggles to meet his eyes. There are too many reasons they are meant to be. There are too many moments when they have found love in each others eyes. And in this moment, they are unsure, but strong. Creating another as they walk to their beginning.

Originally posted on my blog.

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