He's looking at the cardboard box on top of the table, set in front of him as if it were a present, while it's the reason his heart is in crumbles. His gaze slowly wanders around the contents of it; a few T-shirts folded neatly, three CDs, his toothbrush, shampoo, an almost empty bottle of cologne, and a picture frame. He made that for your first anniversary, carving tiny flowers and butterflies in the wood, a picture of you two still in it. When you texted that you wanted to meet him after an almost three-week-long 'break', he thought you were finally ready to pick up where you left the relationship. He didn't expect you to end things between you two. He was so sure that you two are meant to be together, that he didn't worry much when you said you want a break. Of course, he would've rather just be with you, and it was hard for him to not call and text you whenever he thought about you, to not show up at your work and ask if you wanna have dinner. But he thought if he gives you some time and space to think through everything, you'll have the conclusion that you two are good together. He always knew that he couldn't give you everything you deserve, he was too busy and too tired. But he always tried his best, especially after seeing his daughter growing fond of you too.

He looks around the diner, there aren't many people, but he still feels a bit embarrassed about having a breakup in public. Now he understands why you asked to meet here; you wanted to make sure that it wouldn't end up with tears, yelling, and begging. Then he looks back at the box again. Two years. Two years and all those plans and daydreams, all those kisses and tears, every I-love-you's... And it's just a small box. He feels like he could fill a whole apartment complex with his thoughts and memories of you.

"So... we're done?" He glances at you, his eyes flicker to your lips, and his chest aches from the thought that you might never kiss the scar on his nose again.