It was November before the temperature dipped below 85 degrees. I was standing outside of the terminal, waiting, when I found an old message from you hidden inside my favorite book that I picked up from my shelve on the way out. It was a postcard, one with daisies, that read, "Doing fine," and some other cliched term of endearment that quickly made the pain return. I walked to the trashcan, hesitated, and then threw it away. Our love was in the spring when the smell of flower filled the air, before our innocence was lost, and that time had passed.
I read something similar to this topic by a facebook friend, but thought that his ending didn't really fit; his protagonist kept the written message. So my writing was in response to his.
*No idea why, but when I wrote Love in the title bar, in the drop down menu Love God? appeared. Thought it was as good a title as any and chose it... or possibly it chose me.
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