"Are you going?" she asks.
"Yeah, I'm gone," he replies.
Her eyes transform into pools of melancholy.
A tear falls. Followed by another.
And in a sudden burst, tears stream uncontrollably,
moving the pools from her eyes down to the pockets of her sweater.
And in that moment it was certain.
A rather large part of her little life had been left changed by the boy who told her,
"there's nothing 'just' about you."
The boy who asked. The boy who listened.
The boy who wanted nothing more
than for her to see herself the way he saw her.
The boy who was leaving.
The boy who was gone.
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