It was one abrupt back-turning too many. A series of them in such a short time. Losses of composure. Uncertainties, dismissals, contradictions. He knew so little of his own heart that he could not even understand yet that there was hurt there. The music had not yet come, but it would.
It was not worth it. He reminded himself a lot more firmly than he ever had before, that he had always been good at letting go. Then he left to finish the music he had started two days before.
A small note was left for the others, with intention to return when he was done washing pointless, circular infatuations out of his system.
He would learn from this.
