Tomoko felt as if she should say something. But she'd forbidden him from saying the words even if he would only be voicing what she felt for him. She wondered why she never said anything earlier. Would it have changed anything if she did?

She felt as if she should do something. Maybe run up to him. Hug him. Even kiss him goodbye. But that would make it harder, wouldn't it? Because she wasn't sure if she could let him go, and she knew she had to. This was his decision, and there was nothing she could do to change his mind. Nothing she could do to make him stay.

He forced her to let him go, and a part of her knew it was understandable if she were to hate him. If she were to think of him as the one who hurt her. The one who left.

But she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

Tomoko looked up, saw the last traces of the meteor shower streaking across the sky. Then, it was gone, and the sky seemed all the more dark and bleak without the storm of light. It looked sadder as well. Emptier.

She glanced behind her, found that she was alone. Finally, finally alone. She drew her knees to her chest, bowed her head, and sobbed. It would be a good thirty minutes before she could draw enough strength in her bones to pick up after herself and go home.