I looked at you, and you looked back straight into me. With that look, you were speaking. I knew what you meant. I knew what that meant. I forced a little smile, not knowing what else I should do. You just kept looking. It was like you were trying to memorize every curve of my face, every edge and end of my bones and where my joints connect, every move of my muscle when I blink and smile and swallow. It was like you were memorizing every inch and every bit of me. It was like you wanted to remember me the way I looked at you that night. Like I did not want you to say what you were about to say. It was like you did not want to forget me. Like you did not want what you were about to do either. But you did it, anyway. You told me, anyway.