Happiness: Last Day

My legs are in between his; I press my palms onto his desk and slowly raise my body until I’m sitting in front of him.

“We can’t do this anymore,” he says.

And I inhale slowly then bite down on my lip. He says this a lot.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” but for some reason each time is no easier than the first.

I close my eyes, press them tightly before opening them again, but his face hasn’t changed. I look into him as if his eyes will reveal something new to me but they don’t. This time he’s certain. So, I get up and push passed him—breaking free of the little circle he had made around me. I feel the heat on my cheeks and the burning in my eyes as I grab my bag from my desk. I can’t do this anymore, but what hurts me if the fact that he won’t do this anymore. My insides twist and I feel as though I’m going to faint. This was all fun and games, it meant nothing, I tell myself. But it did. It meant everything. I pressed my palm on the cold doorknob and allow the metal to scold my skin.

“This time you called wolf and they came and they won’t be coming back,” I say to him and I shut the door behind me. I didn’t go home that day instead I went straight to the Student Advisory Office. There was only one thing holding me back and it couldn’t hold me anymore, so I signed the paperwork, marked the date and dropped his class and the others at Halton University.