Never Spoke Again


It was a Monday evening when you sent me a message. You asked how my day was, and I expressed how things were going. It was an out-of-the-blue kind of conversation — the one we had. I wasn’t trying to put any meaning into it because really there wasn’t anything for me, or so I thought.

You called me on the phone that same evening. We conversed. I laughed. You made jokes. I laughed harder. I said sarcastic things. You laughed hard. I was having fun, and so were you.

You stated your interest. You expressed your intentions. I was feeling meh, but it got me thinking anyway.

In my head were thoughts I once explored. These thoughts were the ones I tried to brush off of my shoulders every time I had them. These were the thoughts I’ve managed to bury deep. But they resurfaced. And in that moment, I had my guard down.

We spoke again the next day. It was fun really. You and I just laughed a lot. Somehow, I felt a connection. It got me thinking again. Thoughts that were once chained and dropped into the abyss rose. What if it’s you? What if this is it? What if it’s us? It’s foolish, but I couldn’t help it. I was getting ahead of myself, and it was dumb of me to have done it. I did it anyway.

You told me you were near home. You said we’d talk again later. We hung up.

We never spoke again.


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