Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.

It was a Monday, and a rainy one at that. I don't remember the date, just that, because years afterward, the song “Rainy days and Mondays” (you remember how we both liked the Carpenters, and Abba?) reminds me of that day. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Yes, it’s the other way around.

“No need to talk it out, we know what it’s all about”

And that’s what you did. So I talked it out with myself. Rationalized, negotiated, and then finally understood and accepted what had been the reality for you months and months before. It’s all good now, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t even matter. It doesn’t.

I’ll never forget the ride home that day. Till that day, I had been spoiled, pampered, driven all the way back home. That day, I wanted to take a bus, and you didn’t mind. You dropped me off at the bus stop, and it was raining. I wonder if you knew that I hate being in the rain. You drove off, and I found myself tearing up. I don’t know if the lady next to me noticed the soft tears flowing, or that I spent half an hour trying to write exactly how I felt, in a text message. I wonder if you kept it.

There is so much that I can write, so much that I still remember. What I wore, what you said, how you said it, what you meant. It doesn't matter though, it was years ago, and I don’t miss you. Another friend’s story, of heartache, of walking away and not looking back, brought back memories, it seems of so long ago. That rainy Monday, I don’t know which one of us walked away, but I found my way back. I found my way home.