Tangible Pardon

His hand moved over the far side of her head, smoothing the hair down until it was satisfyingly straight. He paused as he was taking his hand back, feeling the exhale of every warm sleeping breath she took. Shame took over him as he regretted ever saying goodbye to her; the goodbyes were little, but regrettable. People say goodbye without even bothering to look at the leaving, it’s become so straight and banal, and it’s amazing to think of how many goodbyes we’ve given with full knowledge that we’d never see them again. But she was not nobody, and she was not some tangible pardon. So right there in that moment, with her head gracing the pillow next to his, he decided he would never say it again. She will always be ‘see you later’, because she could not disappear, and he would never let her leave.