Saint Dirty Face™

The street was empty.

Not the peaceful kind of empty…

the kind that feels like something already happened here and left.

Rain tapped against the pavement like a memory that wouldn’t shut up.

Streetlights flickered just enough to make everything feel uncertain.

That’s when I saw her.

Same walk.

Same presence.

Different… everything else.

She stopped when she saw me.

A sharp inhale—like the past just punched her in the lungs.

“…So nice to see your face again.”

Simple words.

But nothing about this was simple.

“I stopped counting…” I said.

“…you didn’t.”

There it was.

Time doesn’t move the same for two people who didn’t leave each other the same way.

She stepped closer, searching my face like she was flipping through old pages.

“You look different…” she said softly.

“…but somehow still you.”

Funny how people can recognize you perfectly

while still not knowing who you’ve become.

There was a pause.

The kind that says everything both people are avoiding.

“I don’t love you anymore…” she said.

No anger. No venom.

Just truth.

“…but I remember how.”

Damn.

That one didn’t hit loud—

it sank in slow.

Like realizing a song you loved doesn’t feel the same…

but you still know every word.

A flicker of something crossed her face.

Regret. Maybe.

Or just the weight of saying something out loud that was never supposed to be said.

“I’ll say it now…” she continued, voice barely steady.

“…before it disappears again.”

That’s the thing about moments like this—

they don’t last.

They don’t fix anything.

They don’t rewind anything.

They just exist long enough to remind you what you lost.

She stepped closer.

Close enough to matter.

Not close enough to stay.

“I’ve been holding onto this…” she said.

“…for one last miracle.”

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny—

because somewhere, a part of me used to believe in that too.

Miracles.

Timing.

Second chances that actually worked.

But life doesn’t always circle back the way we want it to.

Sometimes it just… passes through.

I looked at her—really looked this time.

Not who she was.

Not who we were.

Just her.

Right now.

“I can’t save you…” I said quietly.

“…if you keep walking away.”

Silence again.

The heavy kind.

The honest kind.

And then it happened.

She looked at me like she always used to—

like I made sense in a world that didn’t.

“And the worst part?” she whispered.

A tear slipped down before she could stop it.

“You always understood me…”

A pause.

“…just never enough to stay.”

Yeah.

That was it.

That was the whole story.

Not betrayal.

Not hate.

Just two people who saw each other clearly…

and still couldn’t make it work.

She turned first.

Of course she did.

Some habits don’t change.

I watched her walk away—

not chasing, not calling out.

Because deep down…

we both knew.

This wasn’t unfinished.

This was just remembered.

🜏

Some people don’t come back into your life to stay.

They come back to remind you

that what you felt was real…

even if it was never meant to last.

And sometimes…

that has to be enough.

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Saint Dirty Face™

Stay Dirty, Stay Human™

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