XLIII

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It's been a week. Seven days. Hours upon hours of peaceful, heavy sleep. My mind clouded over with the thought of him. Not with the thought of you. I thought I forgot you. I thought maybe I stopped caring. I thought I didn't mind her. Or her. Or her. Or you. I didn't laugh at everything you did. I didn't search you out in the crowds of your friends. I didn't glance back at you twice or three times or four. For seven days, you were gone. Out of mind. Perfectly gone.

But you couldn't keep it that way.

You sat next to me.

You laughed.

You respected my personal space.

You stared.

You looked over my shoulder.

You subtly cheered me on.

You fought your way back into the murky depths of my mind as I argued over the definition of wherewithal and synonyms of problem and made it rain with imaginary dollars in my palm. You fought your way right back and now I can't even remember his name.

May 28, 2014 9:25 pm

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