Nine days spent in West Lafayette. I consumed more bagels this week than I let myself eat all of last year. It hurts to even think about my trip, much less talk about it.
Leaving people at airport security is one of the worst feelings in the world. After that last good-bye you have to strip down nearly to your skivies and rush through cold metal and scanners. As if I don’t feel cold, exposed, and naked after leaving him anyway. Being stripped of him nearly knocks the wind out of me, but I’m used to the vertigo. I’ve been through this torture so many times before; it is a well-rehearsed part.
So I get through the probing station and fumble with the contents I’ve had to expose to pass the test. When the exhilaration of that is over emotion washes over me and I get that all-too-familiar punch in the stomach: he’s gone and it will be months before you even touch him again.
I hate it and I'm not wiling to hurt like this for very much longer. I can't. Couples aren't meant to be apart this long. We've been apart the whole time and enough is enough.
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