Old lover
September 20, 2020 - 10:52 p.m.

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A package arrives. It looks like a book. It doesn't have my name on it.

"Do you know that person?" my roommate asks. I look at the printed name.

It's my old lover. I check over the package. No where on it does it say my name. Why would he send a package to my house with his own name on it? He's generally very good about not mixing up that sort of thing.

I haven't heard from him in a year. I'd just finished scrubbing him from my brain.

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Should I text him and let him know? I text my bff, and also his ex. Or should I open it? Or should I return to sender?

Ugh. You should text him.

FINE. But I'd rather open it.

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I text him. He replies almost immediately.

You got the book?

Is it for me? It has your name on it.

Dammit, I ruined the surprise!

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We talk. He tells me about meeting another woman. About the breakup. About falling off the wagon, and sliding into alcoholism again. He tells me how the pandemic crashed through his life, the massive layoffs at his work. His recent promotion. Getting back on the wagon.

He tries to get me to promise to go meet him somewhere. To send him nudes. To slip right back into our old roles.

I can't do it. I feel my hackles rise. My skin feels like it's trying to crawl away from my body.

Finally I beg off, and go to bed.

My head swims. My jaw is tight, and my teeth hurt.

I think about that stolen kiss, that Christmas.

He came through my home town on his way home. We had lunch at my favourite lounge, with the victorian wingbacks and the fireplace. I walked him to where he parked. The air crackled between us.

We stood outside his van, toes scuffing in the dirty snow, fists in pockets.

And then we collided, like two stray waves, his fingers in my hair, my spine swaying into his body, and the next second it was over, and I was breathing out his air.

"Well," I said. "Drive safe then."

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Why is he back now? I'd just finished scraping him out of all the crevices in my brain.

Ugh.

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Rosie

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