I knew exactly what he was going to say when I told him I needed space. That’s what happens when you spend years together, exploring the deep, dark places no one else sees. We could do this every weekend for eternity, the familiar routine: Watching Netflix, eating at the same breakfast spot and complaining about the loud blond hostess, walking in the wildlife sanctuary where we never seem to see enough wildlife, eating dinner at the same three restaurants, almost always using a coupon. I love routines. But not this one. Every morning the same texts, every day the same jokes, the same little deaths in different positions. We were forged in the valley but it feels like that’s the only place we can exist. He is different now, and so am I, but together we feel like something from the past. Recycled. He says I fill a void that nothing else can, so why do I feel empty?



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