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That night, the night when I finally said “enough is enough", was biting cold as I slipped out of the party, struggling to hold back my tears and making it only as far as the car, where I spent what seemed like ages fumbling with my keys until I finally felt the lock give and rushed, shivering, into the driver’s seat. It took a minute for me to move; I sat there instead with my hands on top of the wheel and my forehead pressed against it, taking in deep breaths of the cool air that was slowly becoming tolerable. Sitting up, I wiped my eyes, though it was as useless as shoveling snow while the blizzard is still happening, and began to drive. I had nowhere to go, but somehow it seemed like the only option. The lights of the city all blurred into one, and I could barely make out the reds, greens, and yellows of the traffic signals as I drove along. My head was no longer doing the driving, though; instead, it was my heart, and I somehow found myself at the football field. You know the one. You remember the night, and as I sat there, I saw it all play out, and through my tears, I smiled. The next place I passed was the sidewalk in front of my grandma’s apartment, the one where we stood kissing in the rain. I closed my eyes, and the wetness on my face was still there, almost as if it was happening again. Next, the flower shop, the gas station, the car wash… I also passed the beauty salon, and I saw the sign that read: “Mt. Pleasant: 60 miles”. I passed Meyer’s courtyard, and I saw the very place we had parked that night. It couldn’t possibly have been almost two years ago, could it? Because I could still feel the way I had felt that night, the way my cheeks had ached from smiling so hard. The bowling alley, the Y, the movie theater… every place has its own story, its own unforgettable memory of us. Remember when it was us, and not you and me? I kept driving, letting occasional sobs escape my mouth as the rain from my eyes steadily fell, and I went to the place I knew would hurt the most. I drove past “your road”, past my old house where we drove through the fog and you gave me a kiss on the cheek while I drove because you couldn’t help it, and finally I saw it. The rest stop. Our rest stop. Two years it had been ours. I parked the car this time, walked out to the table where we had laid together, and I laid down in the freezing cold, listening to the rush of the river. The cold wind burned my face, but when I closed my eyes, I could almost swear it was your warm breath brushing against my face again… I could almost feel your skin against mine, hear you whisper those three little words, and I swear, at that moment, the tears were gone. I sat up and looked around. The grass, the grass we had made memories on, was no longer beautiful; it was ugly and brown and had lost the magic it once possessed. I almost laughed at the irony of it all. Instead, I sighed, slowly got up, and walked to the car. With one last look, I got inside, started the ignition, and wiped my eyes completely dry. And this, I thought to myself, this is letting go…