Vanilla Cheerio

There are a million ways to say goodbye. Sans tears sometimes; a wave and a quirky smile as its stead. No long winded speeches, but an awkward silence, a mumbling of incoherent one-liners, a yes or no, a nod or shake of head, here and there. It may not enmesh a cinematic exodus nor artless walking out and taking flight. Sometimes, it happens while walking together, holding hands but knowing there is nowhere to go. It may not be as pellucid as a mutual leave-taking or consensual separation; every so often it ensues as he gets you a ride home and you think up some place to go, something else to do without noticing (or attempting not to perceive) that he doesn't get on the cab with you -- nor would you want him to. You don't do a filmic looking back to see if his gaze follows the taxi as it speeds away. There is no wave, no embrace. no last kisses. Vanilla sendoff. And the credits roll in. Fin.

Sometimes we say goodbye by not saying it at all. And though, we try not to take heed, it bellows out... crystal, crisp and clear... we hear and listen to the fading sound of footsteps that will never walk to your door again.