Ficlets

Only Months Ago

I removed the last things that remind me of you today. The last things I will, that is. I left one piece of you in view. The word you gave me our first Christmas together, after you squealed at the card I had bought you and the note I had written on it. You gave me your love. “All of it,” you said. Four letters cast in silver on a cloth covered base that now sit forever on my bookshelf like an old mystery with half the pages missing. The ending never revealed.

You left so happy and never came back, except to use my shower and leave my house soaked in your lovely scent that Monday morning. You leave me in constant thought. Our reruns have become my daily routine and tear shedding, my nightly.

We aren’t the people we were even then, only months ago. I know that. Only months ago, you weren’t so cruel. Only months ago, you would call me after work to complain about your day and I would sit and enjoy the complaining. Only months ago, you said you loved me … and then … I guess something happened.

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