two years before

Dear Sally,

I wouldn’t go through it all over again if I had the chance. No. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Once was enough.

Fuck. I wouldn’t give up the having-gone-through it, though. The time we had. There was too much that was good.

Summer and staying in bed until we got too hot from the afternoon sun. Winter and staying in bed because it was too cold to get out. Spring and fall were tough because they were in between. We made it through four seasons together.

I want to ask for one more. Just one more season. It’s silly, isn’t it? After this, would we even know how to be with each other again, even if we wanted to?

Well, even if you wanted to.

I can’t stand this. I want you. I don’t want the relationship we had. I don’t want a relationship at all!

But I want you. Maybe it’s a sex thing. Maybe that’s all it ever was? No. That’s not fair. Not fair to me or to you. Then what was it? What was it, Sally?

What was it we saw in each other? Right now I can’t remember.

You called me on the phone and told me it was over. You broke up with me over the phone! I thought I meant more to you than that. You were so matter-of-fact about the ending. About the need to end. To stop. To stop. To stop.

You said you loved me. That’s why none of this makes sense.

I want to hear you say it again.

It’s probably better this way. I had always planned on leaving anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking.


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