It had been a long few days. Dealing with grief was something no one could quite describe, because their definitions weren’t accurate.

Your dad had told you that you were moving to Paris because of his work. You loved Paris, and argued that you had a whole life here. He didn’t bother to argue back.

There was a boy. Daniel. One that you loved very much. And he loved you too. But he didn’t want a relationship. It hurt. That was only a couple of months ago. You still loved him.

Your dad yelled as he left. “Im staying in London for 2 nights, your at your uncles!” He meant well. I’m sure he did. He just handled grief differently to how we both thought.

“Bye, love y-“ You were cut off by the door slamming.

You packed your bags and waited in your army uniform for cadets that you did. Daniel was picking you up as your parents shared lifts. He knocked on the door. He didn’t know yet.

“Hey slow poke.”