She steps into the car, ducking her head down as she slides inside. The crosswalk light changes and Liz and I take its cue. We look back to see the car turning, Sam waving through the window as she's carried away.

She came and went, and in her leaving I didn't expect to try my hardest to hold on to her in the way that I have.

Today I'm thinking of buying a perfume for myself even though I never wear scent, because she likes to wear scent, and maybe I'll start.
"I think a lot about...

...what you said to me about backing into a parking spot."
Maybe I am in a rush, and maybe I shouldn't be.

"Why are you finite?" she asked me when I said that sometimes it feels like the more of yourself that you share with the world, the less you have left. But she was right- I'm not finite.

I could give everything to her and still have myself left. Then there would be two me's, one tucked into the breast pocket of her button down and the other sitting during her workday, writing in her little red notebook, something a cross between the truth and her feelings.
The end