A/N: I don't normally ship Meredith and Derek, but I started writing this for a writing sample and it had some serious Meredith/Derek vibes. Soooo here I am. You should know I don't ever mention their names, but it's them. Trust me. It's a thing I do. My characters never have names. Also you should know that it is based off the lyric "You're not sure that you love me, but you're not sure enough to let me go." from a little song called "Leave The Pieces" by The Wreckers. Never done this before. Let me know what you think. The good, the bad, I can take it. Soooo...shut up and read :)

One man. One woman. Together they were nothing but two very poignant people. It was strange because as miserable and as lost as they both looked, I'd never seen two people more in love. It was obvious they cared deeply about one another, but neither seemed like they were sure it was enough.

Week after week, day after day they met here and I just watched. I watched the two lifeless souls as they tried to save the only thing they truly knew, each other. And today is no exception. She walks in the door at the same time she always does, three o'clock sharp.

She makes her way by me and settles two tables away. I notice how her eyes never once left the floor on her trek from the door to the table. I'm not really sure what she is thinking or feeling, but if the look on her face is any indication, she doesn't know either.

She's impossible to read and I can't figure out why. She's pretty, she's smart, she seems to have the world at her feet, but yet she looks so desolate. How can a woman of that caliber look so isolated, so disconnected?

With a simple shift of her eyes, all the pieces come together. She's gone. Whoever this woman was prior to this moment has disappeared. She's emotionally writing her own obituary as she tries to put on a brave face. The passionate life she once led has now become her numb existence. It's hard to tell if the passion ever existed, or if over time he managed to destroy it.

The door opens a second time and he walks through it. It takes him a few seconds to spot her. He takes a deep, unsettling breath and makes his way by me and sits down facing her. He doesn't look at her right away. He keeps his eyes focused on the odd nervousness that is his hands. He finally looks up at her with a soft smile after she mumbles something to him. He gets up and makes his way to the counter. After a few moments he returns with two coffee cups in hand.

She thanks him and then there is a silence between them; a very distressing silence. A silence so loud that it physically hurts. It's awkward, yet comfortable. It's frustrating, yet gratifying. It's empty, yet full.

It seems neither is sure why they're at such a loss. They don't know how they got here, but they're here. It's that feeling when you've been driving for a long time and you finally reach your destination, but you don't remember the drive. That is this moment. Except this isn't just a meaningless car ride, this was it. This was them. This was everything.

The thing that defines who they are has simply slipped away and seems to be too far gone to revive. The look on both of their faces is very telling. After a few moments of silence, they consciously hit a brick wall. They know. They just… know. They know that things won't ever go back to they were. Too much has happened. Too much time has passed. Too much has been let go.

"I miss you," she finally murmurs as she reaches across the table for his hand. She waits for him to finally meet her eyes and when he does, she frantically searches them for some sort of response to the loaded statement beneath the seemingly simple one. She's searching for a sign, a look, something to let her know she's not alone. "Say something. Anything," her eyes scream at him.

"Yeah," he says as he meets her eyes for the first time in what seems like eternity. He really isn't sure how to continue because she made it seem like this is all his fault. "Aren't you tired yet?" he says in a hoarse whisper as he focuses on the table.

She stares at him intently, clearly startled by his question. She looks like she's not sure whether to smile because he finally said something or to cry because he may answer the question for her. Everything in her mind pauses for a brief second as she takes time to gather her thoughts. She knows that what may follow in the next few minutes will determine who she is from here on out. It will determine how she gets home, where she sleeps tonight, and who she wakes up with tomorrow.

"I..I…I don't know," she says as she tries to form coherent thoughts. "I mean after everything we have been through? Yeah I'm tired, but I'm not the one giving up."

"Giving up? You think I'm the one giving up?" he hurls back at her. "You," he points directly at her. "You are the one who gave up. You are the one who walked away. You are the one who shut me out. You are the one who picked everyone else over this relationship. You-"

"Stop. Stop it," she declares. "Stop making this my fault. This isn't my fau-"

"So it's my fault? This, all of this, is my fault?"

"I never said that. You don't get to put this all on me," she says as her fist hits the table loud enough for only the three of us to hear. "You don't get to blame me for everything and walk away looking like the victim. You don't get to put me in that position."

He stares at her dumbfounded. She either hit a nerve or he wasn't expecting any sort of emotional response to his accusations. She stares directly back at him with rage in her eyes and then suddenly the uncertainty rushes over her. She looks startled and somewhat appalled by her own response.

Once again a very loud silence presents itself and she finally loses all confidence and looks down at the table. All of her insecurities come swimming back and take over. She looks back up at him with tears in her eyes. He shakes his head ever so slightly and looks down at the table.

"You need to figure out what you're doing," he says as he takes his right hand and places it on top of her left. "If you're in this or not, I need to know."

She looks up to the ceiling as she wipes the palm of her right hand against her cheek to remove any evidence that he had gotten to her. She nods her head and pulls her left hand away from his.

"I should go. I..I need to get going," she says as she stands up and puts her black tote bag on her shoulder. "I'll, um…just see you later."

He's taken aback by her response, "Yeah, I'll just…see you later then."

She turns around and walks out. He sighs as a look of resignation takes over his face. She walked away, but from what? From the table? From him? From them? He sure as hell doesn't know. He sits there looking at the chair she occupied trying to figure out what to do next. After a few minutes he stands up and makes his way to the door.

This is the last time I ever saw either one of them. I don't know how this story ends. But lets face it, in life do we always get the ending we're looking for?