Closure

It was the classic date. Night time, at the beach. The roaring sound of the waves swept to your feet and ran away as fast as it touched you in this game of 'it', but a part of it still remained where you could feel it the most.

"Do you remember?" they said. "This was our first date."

You kept a distance from that person. You remember what their name was, but you'd rather not say it any more. That was what you agreed upon.

Your shirt fluttered through the sea breeze, gently slapping your skin. They set up two separate, parallel fireworks and gave you a lighter.

"Let's do it together."

One. Two. Three.

They went first. You deliberately took a second to light it up, or perhaps it was subconscious. Your feelings were fading away.

The fireworks beamed up in the night sky, and with its short lifespan, brightened up its participants until it was no more.

"For closure," they said.

But you knew too well that it wasn't for closure. And yet you didn't tell them that. You didn't even want to say anything to them. They approached you, keeping their distance in an arm's length, and handed out the very first photograph both of you took together.

Nothing more had to be said. Nothing more had to be done. You kept the photograph with you, and walked away from them. Their footsteps used to be pleasant, but now it was nothing but noise.

You stared at the photograph at home. It seemed so inviting. The atmosphere was surreal to you. Your smiles were genuine and your hearts were full of joy. Two people intimately connected. The sunny day overwhelmed your darkest spots.

There was a possibility of a second chance.

But you threw it away.