I knock on the wooden door but don’t wait from a response from inside before entering, just like every other time. But what’s different is that this time, the sight in front of me doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy, but the polar opposite.

Your cabin is basically all cleaned out, just like mine across the camp. A place once covered in kids drawings and art projects, clothes and knickknacks, and life, is practically vacant. My heart physically constricts.

You’re standing at the foot of your bed, packing up your duffle bag when I come up behind you. My arms snake around your waist, halting your work and pulling you taut against me. Just like all the times before, my face nuzzles in your neck.

“I don’t want summer to end just yet,” I murmur against your skin, smelling the familiar scent of pine and sun on you.

You melt back against me, your head hitting my shoulder as I kiss up the side of your neck. I wish I could pause time and stay right here forever, with you, in our perfect little bubble. It’s been 3 months of pure bliss with you, and I’m not ready for it to be over just yet.

We’re both camp counselors here, and our troops ran the same times and days so we were bound to be close. I just didn’t realize how close we’d get. It’s no longer just a summer fling for me. It’s love.

And the fact that you live entirely across the country from me, isn’t sitting right. How am I just supposed to not see you everyday? You’ve promised to call, text, write, all of it. But it just won’t be the same.

There’s one more night left together before we go our separate ways tomorrow afternoon, and I’m actively trying to avoid that fact. I can’t lose you just yet.

“I love you, you know that right? This isn’t just a fling for me…”