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Perfect Storm
He was my everything and the more I find myself thinking about him, the more it hurts to see his perfect storm drift away. He wasn't perfect— Hell, we both weren't. Though, his imperfections all the more added to his beauty. He represented the outside world that I never would be able to touch with my hands or soul.
I guess that’s why it hurt to say goodbye.
I never got the chance to say goodbye.
I was miles away only connected by the radio waves that tethered our phones together. He was falling from the pinnacle of the highest corporate tower. I thought we had won yet he was spiraling and falling out of control. He was the eye of the hurricane —the perfect storm— but that would never satisfy him. I wanted nothing more to be by his side. Then, when my body hit the ground I would finally be free. Teary-eyes, I pressed the phone closer to my cheek.
“I love you,” I said as he slowly lost the grasp on the thin red line that tied us together.
“I love you. Please say it back, let me know that you are there.”
My perfect storm had left the stratosphere.
I love you.
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Perfect Storm highlights the seconds of loss before the event. The narrator recollects and remembers how important his partner means to him and tries to find his last words to say when there is so little time to say goodbye.