Tuesday, June 14, 2011


Soon there won't be any reminders of him in her inbox. In a day or so, if she doesn't delete the automated ones from the president. She couldn't decide whether or not to delete his voicemails, or listen, for that moment...the moment where it, went. the moment she was too preoccupied to hear. She deleted the texts, the photo of the moon, the one telling her he'd call later, that he was running late, the one back that she was mad he was running late. Where were they going anyway, was there parking? There was never any parking in this godforsaken place! People were always going places just to drive around, fighting to find a place to settle, for a moment. And I guess that's kinda what this was. Fighting for a spot, thinking you're going to stay longer than you actually do.

he reminded her of her college boyfriend, same height, different coloring. her college boyfriend,before she knew what hurt was, before she hurt someone. They were similar, except for the shoebox of letters sent when boys sent letters. similar except for the duration,determination. 'men do get sidetracked less easily'.is he deleting e-mails? she thought. 'think of all the words wasted' perhaps he would have grown up to have been like him. To have stopped writing letters. perhaps the words in both boxes were the same, or the younger were better, or the same but read better? She also printed the e-mails from her university account, placed them in the box. Because he asked her to. For a day where they no longer knew their passwords but wanted to read together. assuming that came. And she assumed. And now for the first time, she assumed again. And perhaps, perhaps it did make an ass out of you and me. 'no no just me'.

Their names started with the same letter, but most names do. They looked at her the same way, before they smiled, before they turned away. And she looked just as desperate as she inched closer. As she lobbed words back, wanting to play...nothing hit back.

She hadn't kept any of his books, his hair was no longer on the pillow. The toothbrush was left then taken. Yet there he was floating, in words and spaces, and somehow that was worse.

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