And so we split up. We talked about it a lot, and we agreed that it would be best for both of us to go seperate ways. Because he didn’t really feel like going to London with me.
And he didn’t want to stay in Denmark either, where he always felt like an outsider between all those Centurions. He wanted to go back to his roots for a while, and think about what he wanted with his life. So I told him that if that was what he really wanted, that I could live with it. That I would miss him a lot, but that eventually we both would be happier.
I followed him to the car, gave him a kiss on the cheek, wished him a safe trip back to Holland. So long and … he was gone.
Tomorrow I have to walk to work.