But knowing why you are doing something does not make it hurt any less.
Sometimes, I drove past Second Chapter on my way home from work. I never stopped. I would glance at the red door, notice the warm light spilling through the tall windows, and wonder whether Karen was inside helping a customer find a book or sitting in her little reading corner with a cup of terrible coffee.
I wondered whether she ever thought about me.
I wondered whether she was happier without me.
And most nights, I reminded myself that loving someone did not give me the right to demand a place in their life.
Then, one Friday evening, Daniel called.
I nearly dropped my phone.
“Hey,” I answered cautiously.
“Are you busy?”
“Not particularly.”
“Good. I need to talk to you.”
His voice sounded different. Not angry, exactly. Just tired.
“What’s going on?”
“Can you meet me at the old overlook? In an hour?”
