"Do you have a minute to talk?"
"Sure."
"You've got a lot of issues, and I don't want to make anything harder for you, but I'm not happy, and well, I'd like to be."
"I understand."
"I'd like to work on some things."
"I'll need just a minute to get my things." In my mind I can see where all of my things are. I spend a few minutes going through each location, packing them up. "What I leave behind, I'm just not interested in."
"I didn't mean for you to just 'get out'. I thought we'd talk." I keep packing. "You can call, if you remember anything. This isn't how I wanted it to end."
"I won't."
"Won't what?"
"Call." 

"Not at all?"

"Not ever."
"I don't want to end it like this."
That's when I turn away, leaving me, the me who tried but couldn't console me. Like I might in a dream. Like I should have a long time ago. I never should have gotten this involved with myself. I'm selfish to have wanted my own inner voice to talk to, to guide me. I've been so needy.
If I could leave myself behind. Walk away as ably as a grasshopper with its back legs picked off. Where would I go?

Maybe I should call. Before it gets to late, before I start seeing someone else. No. This is really it, how it ends. Things end like this.