The gum was in my mouth

We stood there stealing glimpses at each other. Either of us too proud?, afraid? to see read what was exactly written on each other's face. Our mouths moved round and round in circles, chewing the piece of gum that had been chewed for the past hour. I could feel the residue of the rubber sticking to my teeth.

A strange sequence of events occurred, an one that was all so familiar.

As we stood there, a group of journalists flooded into the small room. Lights, microphones scurried across my vision. Now, I could only catch Pedro in bits. He is still looking down, shooting small glimpses my way.

Then, before I knew it, like always, I see him walking across the window and out of my life. Like every other time. This time, the gum in my mouth have tied my speech. I could no longer call out to him. That was when I woke up.