When it was over, we didn’t know it. Life didn’t flag this up as being the last time. There was no falling out, barely even a falling away.
Things carried on as normal, busy, a little more distance.
It was only looking back, to that day walking along the promenade, that we realised we had lost something. Fallen out of love.
Written as an exercise at the Cardiff Bay Writing Group meeting; write something starting with the sentence fragment "When it was over, we..."