44. If you love me, won't you let me know.

December 27th, this year.
She walked the streets of her neighborhood for the first time in a long time, pulling the suitcases behind her, hoping that she had made the right desition.
Cause she was not one to do this for love or something else that is also silly and made-up.
She left her suitcases in the stew-filled apartament on the third floor, where she read the postcard. It was beautiful but they both knew that it was too late for it to matter.
She kept it, like an last souvenir from her adolescent love and adoration.
Followed her shoes to the park. Not much had changed in her city since she had left it.
The houses seemed brighter, the people looked nicer but the streets still revealed the stonecold misery of all the heartbroken lovers who had walked on them at 4.33 in the morning.