And I looked at him but all I could think was ‘what if tomorrow comes? What if this isn’t the last, what if this isn’t the end—the end of me, the end of him, the end of us and everything as we know it. What if the sun dose rise and the moon dose come out and you and I are still here when we hear the windows rattle and the ground shake. What if when the wind blows and the seasons change, when you come home from work on Monday nights all tired and exhausted because someone didn’t show up and you had to cover for them—what if that’s our day? What if that’s the tomorrow we’re waiting for? Another crappy Monday morning with coffee and burnt toast. But it’ll be another Monday night where you hug me and I fall together again, where I remember how to make that pizza you talked about so much, where our laundry is done and the bed is made. What if we have to get though burnt toast to get to you and me being in love like everyday is promised? What if tomorrow comes?’ But instead I didn’t say another and let you walk out that door.
