Maya and I Break Up

I don't know what to write, so I'll write simply. Maya and I had a great day in Kamakura. We toured the temples, and talked in the strange way we talk when we're alone. We climbed the stairs of the Hase Temple and looked down on the coast, on the little white boats on the water, and on the colorful roofs of the homes and shops of Kamakura. We saw the Great Buddha. We tooled around the little souvenir shops. Maya said that Kamakura is like a little version of Kyoto, though not quite as beautiful.

We didn't have a fight, didn't say things we would have cause to regret. There was just sadness. We both lost something today: I lost my dearest love. Maya lost her best friend.

Therein lay the impossibility. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, I went from being Maya's lover to being her friend. And as I became more and more acutely aware of this, each moment we passed together, however enjoyable, however wonderful, became a gaunt reminder of three years' worth of memories and embraces and hopes.

I still love her. I believe I love her in the same way I've always loved her. Hell, I think I'm more hopelessly in love with her now than I've ever been. But her passion is forgotten, so we cannot be lovers. And mine is not, so we cannot be friends. And so we took a walk through the cold night, along the black Yagami River, and I proceeded to reduce myself to a shivering, weeping wreck and that was that and we broke up.