By the time I got there, he's crossed the street outside Central train station.
I haven't seen Troy for about a month and a half, but we've spoken so often over the phone that it felt like we have nothing to catch up on.
He's just flown in from Tasmania and it was pouring down rain, but it stopped long enough for us to get to the riverbank for some wine and dine. The rain continued to pour but we sit comfortably in the restaurant sipping our wine, taking in the beautiful view and sharing our beautiful seafood feast.
We cuddled in bed and spent 4 days just doing nothing and everything. It was all fun and games until it was time for him to go.
Sitting on the bench at the train platform, we spoke about our past and our futures, since we know our present all so well. We spoke about our fears and our darkest secrets, and we shared about our childhood dreams.
On the train to the airport, after a brief moment of silence, I broke the silence and told him my feelings for him. He turned to me, looked me straight in the eyes, took my hands and said the same thing.
At that moment, life was perfect. An almost empty train, a pair of familiar hands holding mine as we traveled through the darkness of the train tunnel.
Coming home to an empty bed where he slept for a week, where we cuddled, was actually more painful than I thought. Our lives move on in parallel. Perhaps, we might meet again somewhere in the middle. Or perhaps, not.