Let’s go back to then.
The phone call.
There was pizza in my hands and there words pouring out of my mouth about how my first week at my new job was. To me, there was nothing wrong between us. But before the cheese turned cold and before I had the chance to tell you that my new office has windows overlooking 7th Avenue, you cut me off. You said, out of nowhere, that you wouldn’t be flying the 2,067 miles to come see me in June. And before I could muster up some kind of logical response, you threw in an “Or ever.” Which was followed by a series of “I don’ts” and speaking of you and I and love and me in the past tense. I dropped our call and my slice of pizza onto the sidewalk and never heard from you again.
There was silence…
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