“Don’t take it off,” he told her. “So that you’ll always have me in mind.”
She smiled through tears. “I won’t. This is a piece of you that will always be with me.”
They had decided that goodbyes were too painful, so they agreed they would not meet in the morning.
At dawn, he stood on his porch as the moving truck rumbled to life.
Catherine leaned out of the car window, waving, her other hand pressed to her face.
He took a step forward when the truck began to pull away. Then another.
For a brief, reckless second, he almost ran after it. He imagined himself pounding on the side of the truck, demanding time, demanding one more minute.
But pride, fear, and uncertainty rooted him to the pavement.
He watched until the truck disappeared around the bend.
He told himself he would see her again soon.
He wrote to her every week that first year. There were no phones yet, no internet, no social media, and letters were the only way they could keep in touch.
He poured himself into those letters, describing college applications, the empty house next door, the way her absence echoed in every familiar place.
Sadly, each envelope was returned, stamped coldly with words that did not make sense.
“No such resident at this address.”
He stared at the handwriting she had given him on prom night. The street name was correct. The city was correct.
He rewrote it carefully and sent another but that one came back too.
At their five-year high school reunion, Daniel asked every former classmate if they had heard from Catherine.
“She’s probably married by now,” someone joked lightly.
“Maybe she just moved on,” another said.
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