Fotograf

We were in the middle of the empty football field, staring at nothingness that was made more solitary by the sound of the crickets. The cold air hugged our bodies while the moon lit the deep dark night. 

I smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

We laid and rested our bodies by green grass. We both disregarded the dirt that might stick to our white tees. You looked at the stars as if they are distant wonders that nobody could reach— or nobody could ever understand. I stared at your eyes and I felt the heaviness you were feeling inside.

There were almost no words. We spoke little unlike what we used to do. Our conversations were colder than the night. We were both quiet and it seemed that both of us were reading each other’s mind. 

After a while, tears fell from your big brown eyes. I held your hand while you continued sobbing. I closed my eyes, felt your hand holding mine loosely.

There was nothing. No love.

I asked her for the last time. “Is this really it?”

You tried to calm yourself, stopped crying, and paused for a while.

“I’m sorry.”

I expected the negative response but the hurt pierced my heart as you utter those words. It was not easy. It was not easy to accept defeat. After all, it was just my fight— a fight you did not choose to join with me.

You stood up, cleared the grass that stick to your jeans. I did, too. You cried and hugged me tight but I did not respond. You ran away, never looked back and left me in the middle of field where people either win or lose.

It was just a game.

Tears started falling from my eyes. It was over. It was time to finally give up the fight I had long lost.

I slowly walked away from the field— the same way I’m walking out of your life.