After so many days, weeks, and months together, it was time to go our separate ways. Part of it will be missed; part of it will not. But the reality is we must make room for the new gal or guy that inevitably comes and settles in every three hundred and sixty-five. I know — melancholy’s hand makes its way up to your throat and soon enough it is hard to talk. Thinking of the could’ve beens, or of which was and now makes you feel proud. It’s sad to say goodbye… Adiós, number 5.