You probably didn't realize how often you toyed with your necklace. But I noticed. It brought a subtle attention to the gentle curve of your neck. Had he noticed this habit when he first met you? If not, he surely noticed the smell of your freshly applied perfume. Did he pick it out for you? The overwhelming scent of Jasmine surely wasn't your choice. I was sure I knew you better than that.
I look around the room while you strike up meaningless conversation. Something about the weather and about how they never could quite get it right. I'm sure I responded with something resembling witty, you humored me with a chuckle. Why did we bother to foster this relationship? Did he ask you to?
Lance's death happened exactly 478 days ago. I knew, because I had been counting. We all counted- we didn't want to admit to counting, but we all did in some way. You seemed nervous, like you were running out of things to say. You always have been like popcorn- they tell you to take the bag out of the microwave when you hear longer pauses in between pops. I knew to make up an excuse to head out whenever the awkward silences between us got to be longer, and got to be too much.
I would grab my coat and you would walk me to the door, as if I had forgotten where it was. I can slowly feel the relief rolling off my shoulders.
"Should I expect you next Saturday?" the lonely lady asked from the doorway.
"As always," I said with a smile that hurt my cheeks. Next Saturday would be day 485 and nothing will have changed by then. You wont be any closer to being over him by then. Did he ask that of you?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This whole thing is fictitious- don't read into it. Just, enjoy :)
~Bridget Nicole
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