Writer’s note: I think you can all figure who this was written for, even though I changed the names, as with yesterday’s story. This is actually all I’ve written, even though I have tried, often, to continue past this point. I think I really need to start writing stories that have nothing to do with my real life, because my spy novels always go better than this kind of book.
I stood in my black dress from homecoming last year, watching Nick slam the trunk shut to his car through my living room window. I’d already said goodbye, I just didn’t want to let him go yet. So I watched, unsure of if he saw me there. Staring at his tyedied shirt, I secretly hoped he would turn around. Give a final glace to the house. To me. He must have known I was standing there. But he didn’t look, didn’t turn for closure. He just wrestled with his iPod in the passenger seat, snapped his seatbelt into place, and drove away. And I knew, somewhere inside me, that this goodbye would be our last. I had little hope for a future with him.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t bad, exactly. It was just empty. Like he’d taken something with him that he hadn’t brought, but I didn’t know if I missed it yet.
“Are you gonna be ok, Ani?” My brother asked from the other room.
That poor kid knows me too well. “Yeah,” I said cheerfully. The word caught in my throat a bit, and that surprised me. I hadn’t really planned on crying. It was a passing thought earlier in the morning, but not something I actually wanted to carry out.
“Cuz I have a feeling that in a few seconds you’re gonna be bursting into tears.”
“Nope. I’m fine.” And I was, but not really. When I walked past his computer to go to my room, I gave him a brilliant smile. Don’t ask me if it was fake, because I’m still not sure. “Well, that saga is over now. What’s next?”