He pauses in his tracks when he sees you.

He hasn't seen you in an entire year. Not since the breakup. That's not to say he hasn't thought about you... no, he thinks about you all the time. Day and night. You show up in his dreams and you haunt his nightmares. He sees you in his morning mug of coffee, in the sun rise and sunset, in the ocean, in every autumn tree he passes, in the music he writes. You may not be together... but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He loves you more than he should.

The breakup wasn't messy. It was calm, in fact. Maybe too calm. You were both run down and tired- not with each other, but with the world. Both of your dreams had come up short, and it was a slow realization that neither of you could take care of yourselves and each other. His apartment- his bed- feels empty without you. The love never faded.

But seeing you now, he has to take a pause and just stare. You're beautiful- just as he remembered from a year ago... but you look different. And not in a good way. And he hates it- he hates it because he knows this person sitting in front of him is not you. It's not. He knows you and this simply couldn't be you. But it was.

It's his sister's- Laura- birthday. He didn't even know you were friends with her. But there, sitting on his sister's couch, just observing, like you always did. You were never really a people-person, and neither was he. You both would people watch for hours.

You look disconnected from the party. Your eyes glazed over.

And he can see the bruise around one of your beautiful eyes- poorly disguised with makeup- and the bruises around your wrist whenever your sleeves lift up a bit. And you look defeated. Beaten down and tired. So tired. Skinny, too. Skinnier then he remember.

Since you broke up, he accomplished his dream. Got a jazz club for himself- played every night... but it wasn't complete without you. Staring at you now... his dream means nothing. You're hurt and sad and every fiber of his being is screaming at him to run to you.