I can't tell you exactly when it happened.  I've been so balls-to-the-wall busy the last couple of weeks.  But last night I suddenly felt its absence.

Gone, without a trace.

We'd been through a lot together, I now realized.  It had gone through phases — irritation had turned to resignation, cold resignation had warmed to a kind of codependent comfort, by degrees.  Now that it was gone, I suddenly felt it had been there forever.  And now I was left to cope with its loss alone. 

And this is just the latest.

Jake has changed.  That sparkle in his eye is gone.  His smile is just a careless yawn.  He's breaking my heart.  He's changed.

A couple of weeks ago, unaware as of yet of my plan to move on in September, Jake announced that he planned to do the same.  He told me he had spoken to our landlady and she had told him she was sorry to see him go, as she had decided to hold off on selling the place for another year.  He graciously assured me that I would have first dibs on the Lord Fauntleroy Suite, and that he would set to work soon finding me a roommate.

Can you imagine?  I mean, what planet is he from where he would have anything to do with who I live with once his lease is up?  Yes, I understand that on that planet it's a nice gesture, but on this one: talk about sadistic.  Will she be a giggly twenty-two year-old coed from Salem State?  Please??  He seems to know a few of them. 

I'll admit I had a moment of pause.  I mean, I could picture myself setting up in grand style in the Fauntleroy Suite.  And since the property agency at the new place was still conducting my credit check and I hadn't yet signed a lease, I thought, hmm, now if I could find a nice absentee roommate...

But I don't think I can go on this rollercoaster ride again.  It just wouldn't be the same without Jake.