Tu m'est tres sympathique.

He occupied her mind the whole day. The chorus of a song she heard the day before played in her tete relentlessly.

'Goodbye my lover,
Goodbye my friend,
You have been the one,
You have been the one for me.'

Maybe she's trying to reconcile to herself the fact that he's leaving. To bid farewell to his memories. Store them in a drawer, close it. Move on.

'Wouldn't it be easier if we stop seeing each other now than to wait till I leave? It's tearing me apart. I can't move on like this.' Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, hands on head, his expression slightly pained.

And she had told him the drawer analogy. 'You can do it. Once you get home. I know it for a fact. Sad... but true.'

'But the drawer pops out unbidden. The hinges are loose.'

She looked up the lyrics of the song.

'And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be.'

He said he'd call. She had tried not to wait for her phone to ring. Busied herself around the house. Several times, she glanced at her mobile, as if willing it to do something, don't just sit there silently!

Maybe he had already moved on.