Anecdote : Paper Hearts

Twice you gave me paper hearts.

We were really good friends, then. This was why I wasn't really sure what to think when you first gave me a paper heart. You told me that it was a habit of yours--folding paper hearts. Right after telling me this, you gave the heart you had just created out of a mundane piece of tissue paper to me. So, I thought nothing of it. You make these things out of habit. I'm not special. It wasn't special.

With a smile, you told me to keep it. I did.

And then we said goodbye.

When we saw each other again, we were still friends. I know it shouldn't mean anything, but hearts have always meant something to me. I wanted to show you that I kept it. I wanted to show you that it was special. But you make your paper hearts out of habit. I've watched you make them and throw them away.

I returned the paper heart to you.

With a smile, I told you to keep it.

And then we said goodbye.

We were practically strangers the last time I saw you. It was almost the same as the first time. You were making another paper heart out of habit. I had already memorized how you make the folds. I had seen you do this so many times before. You told me that tissue paper is the best for making paper hearts. They may be delicate, but they're easy to fold--easy to crease. Then, you gave me the heart you made. You didn't even tell me to keep it. You knew I would.

Twice, you gave me tissue paper hearts. One when we were looking at the possibility of a relationship that could never be and this one as I feel you say goodbye. I gave back the first one and kept the other in memory of what should never have started to begin with.

This one I would keep.

And then I said goodbye.