It was enough torture that I had to pass Tunde's office every morning to get to mine. The only good thing was that I knew he would not be sitting behind his desk inside there. It was always locked. I got a gift in his absence, a painting of me. " Mo nife re," the accompanying note read. In the painting , I was lying down with my eyes closed . I could not remember the moment he took the picture but it was me. He lined my lips perfectly that I could not even doubt.  I missed him.  I called when I  saw the painting. The call was filled with little talks and awkward silence so I was in a hurry to end it. Sometimes while I lay in bed before my eyelids close in tiredness, I remember the moments I spent with him, the ones I held close and locked away. I  knew that he must have felt bad,  maybe even concluded that I was immature but I knew myself, I could not watch him 

We always said goodbyes without knowing when we are saying the last one  but I knew. Each time he walked out that door, I stored memories because I do not want to forget  how happy he once made me. It's  up to four months since he walked out that door, I remember holding onto the scent of him, I remember standing at the window and waving even when he could not see me, even when I knew he would never turn to look at me. I knew then that while he mumbled a goodbye at my door before he left, it could have been the last one.  It's also  seven days exactly from the last time he came to my place and I ruined his clothes with bleach water. It is me, I have never loved enough to fight for anyone but this time I was going to try. That's why I'm in Delta, the same state that he is in. I don't know know the city or even his address. I did not ask before he left but I am here, I know I would find him before I leave. I just h