I was walking with –name-, then you-he saw us. I briefly said hello. But when I looked back, he was gone. Or was he that same guy only wearing a different shirt? I wasn’t surprised. Then a message.

“Who was that?”
“I mean, who is he to you?”
“A special friend.”
“How special?”
“Do you love him?”
“Not yet. I just met him, I’m trying to.”
“And what about mr. future former, however that label goes?”
“I’m trying to forget him.”
“At the same time?”
“Why? Trying to forget a man, and trying to fall for a different guy, they’re not mutually exclusive. In fact, you need one to do the other.”
“Confusing much.”
“Hardly. I’m done with confusion. I had that for almost five years, and it’s tiring, suffocating even.”
“That easy huh.”
“No. It’s not like he did anything. I had all the love to give, he just wasn’t taking it.”
“Maybe he wanted to, but he just couldn’t.”
“That’s not an excuse.” I think at some point I quoted Jane Jones/Alice Ayers, “Oh, as if you had no choice? There’s a moment, there’s always a moment, ‘I can do this, I can give in to this, or I can resist it.’ And I don’t know when your moment was, but I bet you there was one. I’m gone.”
“I love it when you quote Closer out of whim.”
“You missed the point. You always do.”
“Harsh. It just seems there’s nothing more I could say or do to change your mind.”
“You-he-you never tried.”
“I know. It breaks my-his-my heart.”
“It shattered mine. At least we’re clear on that one.”

A scream. Suddenly I heard someone screaming. It sounded like my sister screaming, knocking at my door. “Yveeeeessss, your ALARM! Why do you always set your alarm if you’re not going to wake up for it!” I turned it off, then looked at the time. Fudge! I overslept. I’m going to be late again.

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