The worst bit came on the Tuesday. When I came home from school there was a letter waiting for me. The most perfect, romantic letter filled with anecdotes and complements AND SENT ON SATURDAY MORNING. Yes, not joking, sent less than 12 hours before we broke up. How on earth can you go from that letter, that letter that would in a normal situation have made me the happiest girlfriend in the world, to ending the relationship the very same day. The letter told me you loved me, at least three times, it told me you missed me and that you couldn't wait to see me. That letter would have made everything okay, it was the letter I had been waiting for for weeks, the letter than showed me you still felt the same.
The letter that came just a bit too late. The letter that instead of making me want to get the next train to his uni town and kiss him (okay I still want to do that now, but not for the same reasons) instead made me break down and go back to exactly what I had felt at 8pm Saturday when it ended.
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