Received the kiss of death today.

An invitation to lunch with her family in Manhattan. Met her on a corner. The motions of hello. No smiles. No eye contact. Hand squeezes under the table unreturned.

At the end, the garage attendant brought her family's van to the entryway. They piled in, I said goodbye and hugged them all. I said see you soon. Held onto the youngest for the longest, I think she knew what was going on.

K said goodbye, then had to say goodbye again when she realized she wasn't the last one. She pecked me to the right of my lips, where she kissed me in London when she told me we'd always be friends. Death.

'You don't fuck with something so special' was the advice given to me. I am trying so hard to override the part of my brain that is screaming that this, of all the things, was unique.