subject line: Every word is about the one person I don't want to write about anymore. June 08, 2015 by Hannah Brencher atlanta, georgia You see, I’m sitting in a coffee shop in the city we fell in love in, and he’s in a car headed to some place where he can dive into blue water. He’s gonna see the world. He’s really gonna do it. That was always me: I was the one who wanted to get out and leave this town and not sit still. It’s been seven months, and he’s telling me all about the places he’s gonna go. There are pieces of the girl who loved him seven months ago breaking because she knows she’s missing out on all the things she had hoped they could be together one day. Hearing about that “one day” happening without her. But more than that, there’s a girl sitting in a coffee shop in the city we fell in love in, smiling. Because she knows they are not the same two people anymore—- yes, because he still became the person she hoped to spend “one day” with. And he’s gotten everything she’d hoped for him. So she smiles in a coffee shop, alone.