And so these chapters are ending, just as they began: with a story.
A message popped up on her screen.
"Where did that poem you posted a link to go?"
She rolled her eyes. It was a guy that had been dating her friend the summer before and had always been too drunk to remember meeting her.
"The short story?" She emphasized. "I saw some typos and had to take it down to edit it. I'll put it back up in a minute."
That wasn't the whole truth. She had woken up with the story on the front of her mind, a ghostly reminder of the torrential situationship she had just ended the day before. She took it down because it was too raw still, too real.
It was a story about goneness, about longing, about regret. It was an ode to true love, and how time and space can never really kill it. It was a gushing wound in her heart.
"Wait, you wrote that?"
"Yes."
That, dear reader, is how it all began. With a simple expression of desperation to be loved and to find a true love that could withstand time and space, withstand mistakes and hurt, and withstand the full passion.
But like all tragedies, this one carried on for years filled with pain. Two hearts that synced with bad timing and unhealed devotion. Two people who would go to the ends of the earth for anyone, but not fully each other. Two desires to be close, but have space. Two souls forever changed.
The middle of the chapters don't matter anymore. All the memories are fading.
She sits at her computer. It is 12:01 am. She can't sleep again. She hasn't been able to since that night.
It is the only real regret she carries with her. More than the bad decisions of her 20s, more than the missed opportunities for success.
In one night, she lost it all.
So now she sits, at 12:02 am, staring at a blank screen. Words don't come to her. The dream is too far gone now. It has been years since she was able to write anyway. She thought the surging pain and relentless tears would have forced out a few more notes.
It was her hope he would read what she wrote again.
12:03 am.
Her phone catches her eye - screen dark. Notifications are few and far between these days.
Something in her heart breaks again. She picks up the phone, opens her contacts, and scrolls to his name.
Unblock contact is the last option on the contact card.
12:04 am.
Is he sleeping? Is someone else on her side of the bed?
Does he even think about her anymore? It has been so many months now.
12:05 am.
Has he forgiven her?
The goneness in that story when they first really connected. She didn't know it then, but it wasn't a story about the other guy, the one that no longer matters. It was about him. It was a foretelling. She just couldn't find the story anymore - somewhere in between all the on-again, off-again, she had lost it.
Just like she had lost him.
12:06 am.
Her finger hovers, then presses, and she opens up her world to him again. A text written, then deleted. Then written, then deleted.
12:23 am.
I wish things had been different. I know my sorries are not enough, but more than anything, I miss you.
Send.
He lies awake, playing games on his phone, unable to sleep.
The goneness is a lot to bear. The parade of women through his bed hasn't stopped it. The alcohol and fun and freedom may distract him, but in the back of his soul, he can still feel her.
12:20 am.
He puts his phone down, rolling on his side. The goneness fills her side of the bed.
That was what he missed before he met her. Having a companion, someone to love and love him. So where did it go wrong that she was so hurt that she did the unthinkable. He thought he had loved her enough,
12:22 am.
He had loved her as much as he could.
As his eyes closed, he almost swore he felt her next to him, smelled her wildness in the room.
12:23 am.
DING
Who would be texting this late on a Tuesday night? He contemplated ignoring it until morning, and the sleep caught him mid-thought, and pulled him under.
It was the first time he felt peace since that night, months ago.
She woke up to her dark screen. With her index finger she tapped it.
The picture of them, on the beach, still held the background. She hadn't been ready to change it or let it fade into a distant memory.
She knew she should.
No notifications.
He must have me blocked, she thought to herself. Finding his name, she blocked him again, and turned over on her pillow as tears spilled fresh again.
"Hey, babe?" She called into the front door, struggling with grocery bags and keeping the dogs in the house.
Footsteps fell from the kitchen, and she caught wind of faint music coming through the house.
His rugged smile lit up when he saw her. She noticed his stubble (her preference) that he normally kept at bay, and his face bore some signs of being overwhelmed.
Without hesitation, he scooped all the bags from her arms and ran off into the kitchen with them, the dogs happily following.
It had been a few months since he moved in, only six short months after they met.
She knew he was head over heels for her.
She always felt guilty. She just couldn't love him the same.
A string that tied her heart to someone else tugged. She quickly busied herself with the zipper on her jacket. She shook off the cold from outside.
The dogs reappeared, with their favorite human only a few steps behind.
"Ready for dinner?" He asked.
Her eyebrow raised in suspicion. "You cooked?"
He chuckled, closed the gap between them, and scooped her up. Over-the-top chivalry was his thing.
She allowed a giggle as he carried her into the dining room.
Candles. Flowers. Music.
Her heart stopped and the heart-tether went tense with panic. Oh, no, no, no, she silently screamed.
It was then she heard the music.
Chasin' that freedom, chasin' that feeling that got gone too soon
Chasin' that you and me, I only see in my rear view
Hell, I'm layin' here tonight holdin' someone new
Still chasin' you, still chasin' you
Her heart started racing and she walked to the speaker and hit next. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as the first few notes of Neon Moon came on.
The moan was audible as her memories took her back to all the nights, dancing at the bar. His hand on her ribcage, his laugh, his smile.
It had been over a year and a half, and yet she could see it clearly. She could still feel him touch her.
Her brain forced her back into the moment. This wonderful man was in front of her, holding both of her hands. His lips were moving. Her ears weren't working.
He never took her dancing. For as perfect as he was, he wasn't what her heart craved.
"I know it has only been a short time, but I think you are amazing. Will you marry me?"
She heard it and her heart stopped.
His expectant eyes waited with nothing but happiness and promise.
"I need some time to think about it."
She was outside of his door in less than thirty minutes. The lights were on, but she hung back on the street to avoid setting off the doorbell. Her mascara was everywhere. Sobs still heaved in her chest. She had been crying in the car for hours.
Unblock caller.
She tapped the command and opened a text.
"Do you ever think about me?"
She sucked in her breath and flipped the headlights back on.
As her foot pressed on the pedal, her phone lit up.
Certainly she stopped breathing.
"Every day."
Her car crept down the road and she wept. At the stop sign, without knowing how or why, she turned the car and faced his house again.
This time, she pulled into the driveway.
This time, she walked up to the door.
11:11 pm.
Before she could press the doorbell, the door swung open, and she fell back in.
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