Departing To Separate Ways

Erin Saiof
2 min readFeb 14, 2021


Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

It is around 8:30 pm when I get back to his apartment. I call out for his name, yet no answer. I then find a note “Am at the hospital”. It takes me thirty minutes to figure out which hospital he’s in. The same hospital I bring him some nights before.

The guy on the counter says he’s in “ozoation room.” I ask him to repeat and even to spell that for me because it sounds so unfamiliar, but then I say, “oh observation room!”

He asks “how was your day?” I feel like that’s the stupidest question ever, but I ended up telling him what happened that day and it makes him laugh.

He tells me to go home, so I say,”Promise me you’re gonna come home. Don’t die here!”

I remember he comes home that night but I cannot remember what happen between that time and before my departure.

On the night of my departure, he finally says what he wants to tell me in person instead of on the phone.

“Forgive me” he says, I nod.

“Forgive me” he says again and I can feel my eyes watering and his legs are getting cold.

“Whatever happen…” I say and I can feel my voice is breaking, “Go back to Melbourne.”

I text him on the morning of my arrival, he replies. Then no more text from him for days. I try to call the front desk of his apartment but apparently it’s the number of the marketing person and not helping much. I search through the news on Google to find out if something worst happen, nothing.

Then finally, I type his whole name on Google search bar, and there it is, his obituary.



Erin Saiof

Am an INTP-T, love delicious food, solve puzzle, watch 3D animation, write poems, give tight hug. Lastly, my opinion belongs to me