Closure.

He had had more than a year to get over it all. Now he had a few miles. To think about it all. To attempt to make his peace with it. Or to let the wound fester forever.

Deep down he had known it would come to this. That this was the only ending possible. And yet he had made excuses for the both of them. He had refused to accept. He had forever thought that strength lay in holding on, now he was forced to consider how much more strength it would take to let go.

As he ran the miles, he started back from the very beginning. A cold and violent November night more than a decade ago. Lightning. And he was certain, fully soaked with the invincibility of his age. Nothing seemed impossible and the universe seemed to conspire to grant him his wishes. He wished. Some of them on shooting stars. Two years later, the universe granted him his deal. He was high on life and on her. Simple. Strong. Mutual.

More miles. More years. He laughed at a corny quote “Absence does to love what wind does to fire, inflames the strongest, extinguishes the weakest”. All he knew was when two flames came together, the fire only grew taller. He was put to the test. He passed, barely. He believed in graphs and that after the lowest lows only the highest highs remained. She was strong. She was perfect.

More miles. The muscles began to scream. He wondered if there was some truth to using the pain in the body to forget the pain in the mind. More years. A blur. Cracks. Expectations. Fundamentals. Great times. He tried running faster, hoping that it would bring clarity. But it was not to be. It was hard to see what went wrong. It was futile to find someone to blame. He was used to seeking false premises to uncover contradictions. He found many and he found none. And then that fateful call.

The last few miles. The last year. He saw himself at his worst. He had never imagined he could be destroyed. He was, many times over. He had never imagined that some problems were beyond solving. He had found the unconquerable. The tears, the madness, the pain. To the point where he was disgusted with himself. He hated himself. And he loved her. They told him it wasn’t the end and years later it would all seem trivial. He only recognized the moment. He tried every trick in the book. He hung on, barely. He imagined it was worse for her. He would never know.

The last mile. The last straw. He had asked for one last favor. It was not to be. There was to be no setting the record straight. He reached the end of the road. He dug deeper. It was now or never. The sun was fast setting and the cold biting. Cleansing. The answer stared at him, from eleven years ago. He had felt an absolute. One that required no other. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten. He had given the keys away.

He stopped. He had always maintained that he would make the highest exception to the one he loved the most. He saw the fatal flaw in the logic and the fix. He had always thought of her as his highest love. He was wrong. He was himself his highest love. No other was possible, not her, not anyone. He smiled. Then and there, he made his highest exception. He finally forgave himself. There was no one else to forgive. There was no bitterness, no hatred, no regrets. He withdrew what he had granted to her, that which he realized wasn’t ever grantable. He felt exactly what he felt about her years ago. Absolutes. The last few steps were the summation and his recognition of his past with her and his peace with his present. And her future.

Closure. He made it, with seconds to spare. He was invincible, again.