Word Count: 333
Related works: Skip
I keep not thinking about you, you know.
As in, I am intentionally never thinking of you.
I am never writing anymore, because anything I finished that was worth a read is full of you.
And remember- I am choosing not to think of you.
I am making a lot of choices every day. It’s interesting, survival requires it, so I must have been doing it my whole life but it feels new.
Life used to sort of fly past me, like the scenery from a car window on a long road trip, but now it’s like a stop-motion animation; pausing every second, allowing me to truly see the picture before I judge it.
I last saw your picture 69 days ago. It was not a good day, but it was also an amazing day.
Can you humble someone with no pride? I was humbled that day anyway.
The way I judged your picture wasn’t what I had expected. I was surprised at the things I wasn’t reminded of.
I don’t know how many days it has been since we truly spoke, because why would I mark such a date? Why would I give it so much significance?
When you turned 28, I felt your eyes for a moment. Only a moment. In the eye that is my mind, I saw your eyes. I felt them watch and note and judge, but probably in a high speed chase.
I am intentionally never thinking of those stormy eyes.
It hasn’t been so long, but it’s also been a lifetime. In another one, it won’t have to be intentional.
Polly leaned back against the wall behind where she sat in a quiet hallway at work. Her head hit the concrete block with a thud that sent sharp rays of pain to her eyes, but she didn’t mind. It wasn’t intentional, she was just careless for a moment.
Sometimes carelessness causes tears all the same.
Polly closed the note and went back to work.