"I don't want you to hate me," he said, stifling a sob. I put my arms around him.
"I don't hate you," I replied. "I love you."
* * * * * *
"Why can't you talk to ME!?" she shouted. "What kind of crazy fuck goes to a shrink?!"
* * * * * *
"You need to fight for yourself. Fight for yourself like I know you would fight for me," she said tearfully.
* * * * * *
"Even after all those years and all those hard times, my heart still beat faster when I heard his footsteps on the stairs," she said, a far-off look in her eyes.
* * * * * *
"I'm leaving him and he knows I'm leaving him," she typed to me.
* * * * * *
"I think it would be really something to know you," she said shyly, standing at the entrance of my cubicle.
* * * * * *
"I came to see you," he corrected. "I know you're moving to San Francisco and I thought you might like someone to go with you." Hope was written on his face.
"I have someone I'm going with," I said gently. His face fell.
* * * * * *
"I know it sounds boring, but I think it's the boring things I remember most," he said wistfully.
* * * * * *
"When I'm with you I remember things better and when I look at you it feels like home," she cried desperately. "You can't go!"
1 comment:
the most boring things ARE the things that we remember the most
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