“I love you,” he whispered over the monotonic rhythm of shuffling feet and squeaky luggage that filled the dank stairwell of the Dublin airport. Over the last two months I’d never seen him so openly vulnerable, his Irish charm so easily faltered. He stood before me for the last time, speaking those three little words for the first time. Pressed against his lips and clutching his shirt I had to push all thoughts from my mind to stop the stone in my stomach from holding me down forever. Inhaling his sweet cologne, I took a breath and pulled away. “See you later,” I said, my wishful words catching between sobs. Playfully, he tapped my butt as I turned around and ran.
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