I stopped at the bridge, parking my bike near a bench. I didn't do much biking until after she left. It was dark, about 11 p.m. on a late summer evening. I was listening to sad songs on my discman and looking out over the river, trying to feel sad for a reason. Now, it sounds trite, but at the time it meant everything. "I never knew ::song:: could be so sad until you left," is what I wrote. I don't remember the song; it might have been Ben Harper. I wrote a lot of things, but that's the part that I remember most, because I really didn't understand sad love songs until that moment. It was before the long-distance relationship wasn't just something we said instead of goodbye forever. It had only been a week, then. We were still calling each other every night; she made me read the letter over the phone. It took me a long time. I think I sent it - I know I don't still have it.