I didn't text back

It is the last night in Lisbon. My bag is packed. The Joburg one. I keep looking at the print I left on the windowsill.

I shot the rooftops this morning. Same blue. Same light. Nine months of the same blue.

I sent the one frame to Gonçalo. I wrote: last morning. He wrote: bon voyage.

I did not write back. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe I wanted him to say stay. I won't write that down anywhere else.

I always leave first. That is the thing I do. I leave before someone can leave me.

The print will be there in the morning. The light will hit it. I will not.

Nine months in one city. That is the longest I have stayed since I left home.

I am not going to think about Dad tonight. I am not going to think about Cape Town. I am not going to think about her. I just won't.

Goodnight, Lisbon. I am bad at goodnight.