6 Months. No Answers. No Closure. No Contact. ScarletSins Check here if you’ve moved on. I have a new apartment. Check here if you’ve forgotten him. I write in coffee shops now. This is my life.
Normal. Safe. Boring. I date men who don’t know my real name. I drink lattes and pretend I’m someone who drinks lattes. Why am I doing this? Because the alternative is admitting I’m still his.
Six months. No answers. No closure. No contact. I’m fine.
Watcher Check here if you’ve given her space. I follow from three cars back. Check here if you’ve stopped watching. I’ve memorized her new coffee order. This is my restraint. No cameras. No contact.
No crossing the lines she drew. I watch her pretend to write. Pretend to date. Pretend to be someone who forgot me. Why am I doing this? Because she asked me to leave her alone.
Then she laughed at his joke. And I remembered—I never agreed to let her go.
