He was in the café that they always met up at, sitting at their usual  table behind the pillar. Except he was going to have to stop thinking  of it as their café, their table, their pillar. They shared nothing now –  not even a normal friendship. Not even concert tickets to a favourite  band. Just long-ago memories that would slowly fade.

It was  telling that the end of their friendship was impacting him more than the  end of their romance had been. After their break up, he'd just been  angry – angry at being wronged, angry at being ignored, angry that she  hadn't cared enough to fight for their relationship. Now... That anger was  gone. What was left was a sense of realisation. A realisation that this  was truly the end. Even after the break up, he had never felt this  crushing finality weighing on him now.

The waitress placing the  cappuccino he had ordered on the table broke through his train of  thoughts. He looked up into sympathetic green eyes. "Why the glum face?"  she asked, whether out of curiosity or concern, he didn't know. "Bad  break up?"

He glanced at the name tag on her uniform, careful not  to let his gaze linger too long. Her name was Kat, and she had eyes that  fit her namesake. "Not really," he replied.

"Is it the girl who  always used to come in here with you?" Kat asked shrewdly. His surprise  must have shown through his expression, because she chuckled. "Hit it  right on the head, didn't I?"

He smiled a little. He should have known that their antics would have garnered the attention of the staff here. The café had been  one of their most frequent haunts, after all. "Are you sure you  shouldn't be working instead of prying into customers' private issues?"  he asked, instead of acknowledging her questions.

Kat screwed up  her nose in a gesture of defiance. "Oh, come on. Is this what I get for  showing some friendly compassion? Listen, this may be a café, but we  baristas are just like bartenders, see?" She grinned and sashayed away.

He  understood hidden messages when he heard them. That last statement had  been a subtle offer for listening to his problems should he decide to  talk.

Amused, he allowed his gaze to follow her all the way back  to the counter. Kat's accurate guesses about who had been on his mind  only served to remind him how closely his and Lavvy's lives were linked.  It was inevitable that he would run into her again one day. Living in  the same neighbourhood and frequenting the same places pretty much  guaranteed that.

It was going to be awkward, but he didn't want to  spend the rest of his life crossing roads and making detours just to  avoid her. He didn't want to round every corner feeling afraid that she  would be on the other side. Such an existence would be worse than being  strangers. And they weren't strangers – not quite. They had way too much  history to be that. But perhaps one day, they could forget enough to  simply co-exist without being reminded of past hurts every time they  looked at each other. One day, they could look back on the times they'd  shared and only remember the good, rather than focusing on the bad.

Perhaps one day, they would be able to greet each other with casual smiles before continuing their separate ways.

The  bell on the door chimed. He looked up just in time to see Lavvy walk in  and stride to the counter. After giving what he presumed was her usual  order – a pumpkin latte, to go – she turned to survey the café. He  ducked his head before their eyes could meet.

Today was not that day.

But  eventually, life would right itself again, and these old ghosts could  be buried and put to rest. He could finally let go... and move on.

Someday.

---