La petite mort. She thought as they drove away. She had done her crying earlier. In the dark where no one could see her. Yes, she was prepared for this day.

Yet somehow, she was not prepared for his willingness to leave. She wished he had hugged her for just a few more minutes, instead of joining the others.

It was funny, no, ironic that their three-some had become a two-some within two months time. Well, for now at least.

They had shared a few new inside jokes over the last two meals. Don’t you eat that nasty fruit! They’d laughed at the supposed song lyrics. She meant to reiterate that at their departure, but had forgotten.

Yes, la petite mort, but a small part also lives.