The Last Word

We used to share stories at night.

You would ask how my day was, and I would chat away about my boring meetings, this really good snack I had, some exciting events, or the annoying people I met. You would look into my eyes as I babble, sometimes smiling and making me feel awkward.

Now we never share stories at night.

Sometimes you would ask how my day was, and I would answer almost automatically with short mundane words. No more rooms for long babbles about my boring meetings, this really good snack I had, some exciting events, or the annoying people I met.

We used to have stories for each other. Now we hardly have words for each other.

And I lay on my bed every night in tears wondering what went wrong, as I slowly felt the words between us drying, until there is nothing left to say but perhaps a goodbye.