Isn’t love just a silly word in fictional books? #1

I just remembered your disenchanted face when I was packing my suitcase, heading for my newest destination: anywhere far away from you. It was the most sensible — and painful — thing to do on that exhausting Sunday. There was nothing beyond that. Nothing you were willing to do, either. End of the line. Or half the line, perhaps? I don’t know anymore. We were a half case, inconclusive. The yellow light from the lighthouse indicating…