Little things like the picture that had caught his eye. He smiled to himself when he thought about that particular photograph.
He had told her he was going to kiss her cheek; to be ready. So she turned her face and right as she was about to take the picture, he pressed his tongue against her cheek, causing her eyes to squeeze shut and her smile to intensify. It was them. It was real. Defined.
The buzzing of his phone brought him back to the present. It was a message. From her.
"I brought something by. It belongs to you. You just...didn't know it before now."
He wanted to respond, of course, but he was still at a loss for words when it came to her. She was not a person he was interested in trying to understand at that moment, so, he flipped his phone shut and set the picture face down. He'd only put it away if he had to. That was a level of closure even he wasn't ready for.
He brought his left hand to the brim of his hat and adjusted it. Another day. That's all he needed from the next twelve hours. Nothing out of the ordinary. But he could still feel her. Smell her. Hear her. So, inevitably, this was not going to be an ordinary day. That wasn't a luxury he was provided with her in his life.
He opened the front door of his apartment, and there it was. The thing that she had been talking about. And she was right. He hadn't been previously aware of his ownership of the item on his front porch. It was her style to keep him guessing. Once upon a time, he'd found that endearing.
Unfortunately, endearing turned to aggravating, and eventually, caused their sweet demise. Only, there had been nothing sweet about it.
He reached down and picked up the package, sealed in a green, industrial envelope. His curiosity got the best of him. Who's wouldn't? He thumbed the metal prongs until the seal gave way, allowing him access into the small gift from her, if it was even a gift at all. After reaching his hand inside, he pulled out a letter. Her handwriting, which was the familiar use of capital letters only, was sprawled messily across the small piece of paper.
I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, or...read from, or whatever, but this is yours just as much as it is mine. The words are mine, of course, but this is alive and real, so the heart of it is something I share with you. You're linked to me. inevitably. I know I'm not forgiven, so I'll make this short. It's my semester project, and I've been writing it since the day I met you. It was finished a week ago, but some things happened, and...well, I had to stay up until....later than God, and rewrite it. It's inspired by you, so it's in your hands. Do what you want with it. (That means read it or don't. Not use it as a dinner plate or a hair brush or something. Never mind. I'm crazy.)
Whether you want to accept it or not, I still love you. And I'm having trouble breathing without your hand in mine.
As yours as I could possibly be,
He folded the letter, and stuffed it back in the envelope. He'd have to deal with all of that later. Now, he needed to move forward. Live his life. Get through this day.
But she got him again, because right as he was putting the envelope where his keys had been, his nose caught a brief hint of her. Her smell. She had been the last person to wear the jacket the he was wearing then.
God has a sense of humor, huh.
hey, everyone. it's me. uh, let me know if you like it. i don't really care if you do or not. well. i do. but if you don't, it's not going to disuade me from writing. just...saying.
i've missed you. hope you've missed me back.