The Last Impression
by Nevea Lane
I let him go. I knew what we had was a temporary thing. He was married, and I was a lone wolf. He had obligations and I chose to shirk responsibility at every turn. I hoped he didn’t look back over his shoulder as he walked down my gravel driveway. I hoped that he would take our one night of foolishness for what it was, just foolishness.
We were friends once, fifteen years ago when being eighteen meant you knew everything and how the world worked. Why we never went past the ‘friend zone’ in our high school glory days I never knew; just like I will never know why we chose fifteen years in the future to step over that line, when there was so much more at stake.
We met again as I was looking for certain muffin at a grocer. We had coffee, caught up on who moved, who joined the army, who got arrested and who never left. He was one of those that never left. He got married to the girl next door and stayed. Two kids and a mortgage later, he was still here.
I left to chase my dreams. Perhaps I ran away from my feelings for him. Maybe liking him too much is what possessed me to let him into my home now, into my bed and into my heart once more. Still, I let him go. I watched him walk away, framed by the moonlight, his silhouette my last impression.