Shirt

Three days. It is three days before we break up. It is three days before I walk out of your house and never return. It is three days before both of our lives have a dramatic change. Three days and counting. June 21st. That is when I left you. That is when you pushed me out of your door. 

 

Five days. It is five days until I meet you in the bus terminal. You have something I needed, a necklace. You said you would bring it to me, and I said I wanted it. It's before I got the rest of my things. I remember I hadn't seen you in a couple days and we had been slowly talking, trying to work out whatever it was we had left, if anything. 

 

I remember you were wearing white, and you had the necklace around your neck, you took it off and handed it to me and in those few seconds where our hands touched you leaned in and put your head on my shoulder. It seemed so natural, something we had been doing for years anyway. You put your head down and I automatically ran my fingers through your short hair. We were in this position for less than thirty seconds. Then I felt sick, I pulled away and told you I would see you later, running back to my mother's house. When I got back home I burst in and started sobbing. 

 

Two weeks. It will be two weeks from now when I walk up to you at the same bus terminal. You are glaring at me and I am holding out my hand, you've got important letters you refused to give up when I collected my things from your house. You hold them out and slip them into my hand. I sneer at you and you also hold up a $20, "do you want this?" you ask.

 

"No," I remember feeling disgusted, the money swaying in your hand as I backed up, gripping my letters. 

 

"You'll need it for school," you shove it in my hands, "I just want to help you," I can feel you reaching out, grasping for some sort of control over me, over us, pulling me back in. 

 

"Fuck off," I try to hand the money back but you shake your head, and walk away. I ran all the way home and showed my mom the cash, I shoved it in her hand and demanded she destroy it. 

 

A year and a half.  It will be a year and a half from now. You contact me and request I get the rest of my things. I will be confused and sitting in my moms living room watching tv when it happens. I tell you no, just get rid of it. It's been long enough and stop responding. 

 

Two years from now. Two years from now I'll be sitting at work, thinking about what happened two years ago. 

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