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I’m standing on a windswept cliff top, everything below is whipped into a rage by the winds, the sea throwing itself against the rocks. I’m cold, wearing only the jogging clothes I came up in, damp with sweat. Slowly I turn back to the thing that frightened me, your face, crushed by the conversation we’re trying to have.

“You can’t break up with me. You said you loved me.”

I take a step towards you, my hand outstretched,then let it fall as I release the breath I had been holding.

“I do love you, I will always love you. But I can’t do this.”

You’re crying, I watch the trails that the tears make down your cheeks.

“You know it’s for the best, in the long run. I’m holding you back, you know I am. You’ll never do what you need to do while we’re together.”

“I can’t do it without you,” you protest.

“You can. You have to. I can’t hold your hand anymore. It’s not fair on me, and it’s not fair on you.”

I kneel beside you in the sandy grass, taking your hand in mine.

“It’s ok. Really. Trust yourself. Take the job, go to New York, make a new life for yourself. I can’t leave, but I don’t want to stop you from achieving your dream.”

You look so small, bewildered that I can’t follow you, but there’s a steely resolve in your eyes.

“Everything we have had was beautiful. I will always cherish it,” you say with a sigh.

You turn away, getting up to leave.

“I always hoped you would be able to conquer your fear and come with me. I hoped my love would be enough, but I see now it’s not. I’m sorry.”

You’re still holding my hand, but you drop it as you walk away.

“I’m sorry.”

I know. I’m sorry too.