The End of an Era

I knew that I should have been listening to the words coming out of his mouth, but the depth of the moment had wiped all but untimely thoughts of how incredibly cold his car had become from my mind. The dynamics of our relationship had changed so drastically, so suddenly, that I could hardly force the proper emotions. I nervously played with loose strands of hair as I avoided his overwhelming expression. His words cut, short and necessary, almost as fluid as the breath that entered and fled his lungs. He meant every word, every syllable, of our conversation and no matter how much I begged my thoughts to halt I had no control over them. My limbs shook, but somehow I knew that it was not simply the cold that moved them. I couldn't believe that this was how our relationship was going to end; in a cold car parked under a dimming streetlight. The gravity of the situation exhausted me, pulling the pounding of my head forward to meet the back of my eyes, blurring my vision. It was just as well. Looking at him would only cause the welling tears to burst from my awkwardly stoic gaze.
We were saying goodbye, because he was saying I love you. Platonic friends, we had reached a point at which platonic was not enough, but was not something that I could give. What I could not give, he could not bear to be without, so he had reached the point of ultimatum. All or nothing. All of me, or none of us. I made a choice.
Talking gave way to crying, and crying to reminiscing until it reached a point at which we both realized I would have to leave the car. The car, a place free from the weight of time, from the regulations of space, had suddenly become the last strand holding our friendship together. The moment I opened the door our ties would break, and the way we had known each other would quickly fade to futile stories told in past tense. I reached for the handle, knowing our charade could only last so long. I pushed open the door, feeling the true heaviness of the metal for the first time, and stepped onto the concrete. All too appropriately a cold, empty wind rushed to fill my place. Our tears glistened in the flicker of the streetlight for an instant, and then I turned to cross the empty street. I didn't dare look back, because I could feel him watching me as I so casually walked out of his life.
All or none had so easily become none, and the dearness of our friendship had so easily broken under the strain of one choice. I could hardly catch my breath as my sobbing turned to a disbelieving wail. I couldn't help but wonder what held two people together in the first place, and how strong loyalties truly are to be severed in a matter of agonizing seconds.
It was surgery without anesthesia. He was being cut out of my future, my memory, my life. It was left to heal on its own, no sutures or staples to aid it. An open wound, infecting my perception of all love and friendship. It left me missing a piece of myself. It was unbelievable. It was over. It was excruciating.