The Book Hipster

The ramblings of things that make me…um, well…me.

#24 – Mid-Week Blues-Busters: 24 Weeks

This is my entry into The Tsuruoka Files Mid-Week Blues-Buster Challenge – Week 24

Check out the prompt and other entries HERE.

—————

24 Weeks
by Stephanie Fuller

Six months. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred and sixty-eight days. Four thousand and thirty-two hours. Give or take an hour or two. Then I saw you with her.

We met on a Friday. Downtown. There was drinking, music, dancing and laughter. You bought me a drink. I hated it, but drank it anyway. We talked. We flirted. We exchanged numbers and a kiss, but you sent me home, alone, in a cab. I thought you were a gentleman.

You said you would call. It came the next day. You treated me to lunch and we went for a walk. It was sweet. It was innocent. It was amazing.

We decided to have dinner a few days later. You took me to a fancy restaurant. I took you back to my place for dessert.

We fell into place so perfectly. Our phone calls became regular. More meals were eaten together. More dessert.

You said you would love me forever. You said I made you happy. I was happy too. More than I’d ever been in my entire life. I was ready to love you forever.

Friends warned me to be careful. They warned me not to fall in love. That you were not good for me and could only break my heart. I didn’t listen. I wasn’t careful. I fell in love. I was a fool.

Denial and Isolation. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. I’m supposed to feel all these things, according to the books. Books are wrong. I feel nothing. Emptiness.

I’m just a body. A broken shell of what once was me. I try to eat. I try to drink. I try to survive without you. I fail.

Desperately trying to move forward, but something always sparks my mind. A smile. A wink. I think I hear your laugh. A song on the radio. It all reminds me of you.

My friends take me out to try and help. I go because I know they mean well. I sit and look around. Not sure if I want to see you or not. With her.

Hours pass. Days pass. Weeks pass. Months pass. A year arrives.

I met her on a Saturday. She looked into space as I walked up. Tears stained her face. I’d seen her once before. With you.

I bought her a drink. We listened to music. We talked. We laughed. We exchanged numbers and a hug or two.

Apparently, she thought you were a gentleman, but her friends said you were no good for her.

@ImaFuller
417 Words

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Mid-Week Blues-Buster Challenge Winner

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