Adaline was great. Like, really great. From her toddler days when we first met to the high school years that still plagued us, Adaline was great. She could pin down anyone, regardless of sex or build. Yet she could be skillfully delicate in the jewelry she made. She even volunteered at the local animal shelter for God's sake! How great is that? Yeah, it's pretty great. She's great.

Then why did I want to end things with her?

We had started an official relationship about a year and a half ago.  The majority of time with her had been pure Nirvana, and the time without her had been purgatory. I'd look at her and call her beautiful, to which she would always respond with, "You need to shave." We would both laugh, holding hands and sharing the infinite wisdom of teenagers.

It was so great.

But then, for no apparent reason, I found that sometimes I just wanted to be alone. And I didn't think a relationship with Adaline was worth nurturing any further. It wasn't like there was another girl. And she hadn't done anything that made me want to call it quits. But somehow, I figured "It's not you; it's me," as accurate as it may be, wouldn't sit well with Adaline, especially without a proper explanation.

So I didn't put that phrase into my rehersal break-up I conducted with my bathroom mirror.

Finally, the day came when I would have to put my rehersal to action. We were heading up to a long-forgotten cave we had discovered when we were ten. There was an obvious awkwardness lingering in the air, and both parties were fully aware of it. When we got to the cave, Adaline pulled out a bag of Teddy Grahams. I chuckled, but she could only contribute a weak smile. Teddy Grahams had been out unhealthy addiction about seven years ago. Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I had one. But here they were, and after throwing a handful into our gaping mouths, we both decided they were disgusting and threw the bag into Adaline's purse, where it would be thrown away at the earliest convenience.

"So," she said, staring into my eyes with her hand in mine, "What should we do now?" I couldn't handle the guilt or the anxiety any longer.

"Adaline, there's something I have to tell you." My heart stopped as I saw the panic clutch the chocolate orbs of her eyes. Yet beneath that panic, I could see that she cared about me, and was okay with whatever came next, as long as it was what I wanted. I could see her forgiveness and acceptance of the facts, because she was that great. I don't know how I could see all of this in the silence of her eyes, but all that emotion was as real to me as the repulsive aftertaste of the Teddy Grahams.

I sighed in preparation for what would come next. It had to be done. There was no escaping it. And I wasn't surprised when the words flew from my lips.

"Adaline, I love you."