I saw him go into the toilet as I left, his hair freshly cut and pushed up away from his face, and for a second (and I promise it was just for a second) I thought about following him in there, catching his eye in the mirror as he washed his hands, and telling him I was on my way home.
For that second (and it really was just a second) I thought that perhaps he would look for me when he was done and I had left and my not saying goodbye would have said more than I had wanted, spoken volumes amidst the silence, closed the door shut on a life together where nothing would be left unsaid between us.
In the space between before and the reality of what it all actually was I wondered if he believed in signs and if he would think my leaving was some sort of cosmic force telling him not to bother.
For that second I loved him and he loved me back and the rest of it didn't exist at all.
