The corners of my eyes burn with tears. I rub down my cheeks for the umpteenth time. "Is everything black?", I ask. He shakes his head. I grab his hand again. Squeeze it hard. "We can do this," I want to say. "We can let go of each other." But my grip doesn't weaken. His big, rough palm in mine. The creak of his green outdoor jacket. The soft ground beneath my feet. "This is for the best." I not only have to convince him. Before my eyes the memories flash. How I met him under the city tower; a gorgeous, tall man with shiny dark brown hair and round, green eyes. How we climbed a tree and sang in harmony to passersby. How surprised we were when we heard our voices sounding together for the first time. "Say something, I'm giving up on you," we sang. How ironic. As if we captured our destiny right there, in my little studio. There we go. I'm letting you go.