I walked the whole stretch that we walked together a week ago. This time, I felt the chill of the winter night, realized the weight of keeping silent and endured the gloom of being alone. It took me twenty minutes to reach the spot, you know which. And this time, it was well-lighted and no one else was there. It was just me, waiting for nothing for minutes. Somehow I wanted to retrace my steps, aimed to see clearer, or maybe I was saying good bye to a beautiful memory, you. I don’t know why I took tonight’s walk. It was rainy and damp and cold and too late to be wandering in the streets. I just needed to go through with it nonetheless. It’s all clear now. That some walks are meant to happen only once. That way, they remain memorable. That way, they stay lovely and alive and meaningful. That way, they seem unusual, special. That way, some things just end.