When hands were lifted to shake and wave. When light squeeze on the shoulder were given. When bear hugs were shared. When the kiss on the cheek were exchanged. When the night's come to an end.

We parted. Each now on its own.

When it comes to mystery, life is the master and I'm in misery. Guessing, assuming, calculating... I've never been good in math. We probably will meet again. Life probably will twist everything to final end.

This July, I hate goodbyes.