Manchester airport this morning. Fucking Manchester airport. Last time I was there was the beginning of June last year. Same reason this time. Same reaction. How we managed to not break down into a major scene in that place I will never know. And after she walked through the doors to the security check, I couldn't help looking after her. Half hoping that she would come running back, that it wasn't true, half wishing I could run through there and meet her on the plane.
Instead, I had to turn around and walk away.
These last two weeks have been perfect. But now all that's left is to pick up the pieces. Check the e-mails that have been piling up. Try to concentrate on job-hunting. Try to prepare for going back to work on Monday when all I want to do now is go to bed and not wake up unless Kris is there.
Two weeks is not long enough. It'll never be long enough until there's a time we can go without having to wait so fucking long. Until airports don't mean I leave feeling like someone's cut all the meaning out of my life. Until then, I'll always be impatient for the next time.