Three weeks

Three weeks later, a Fortnite and some of not having her in your arms. Twenty-one days you haven’t seen her eyes open from her slumber to find you next to her, watching her eyes flutter open from sleep.

The time is passing, but she feels stuck in the pain of right now. Every day she wishes she would run back to you and find herself spinning in your arms. Every day she fantasizes about the idea of you, but isn’t that really you?

Why was it she left in the first place? When she remembers all the shitty things you did to her, it lessens the pain of staying away from you. It still hurts, but the pain is bearable; she’s been through much worse, so why does it hurt so much?

She loved you beyond anything else, wouldn’t have done anything for you, would’ve conquered the world for you, but she just wasn’t enough in the end.

Every sweet word you’ve ever said, every promise of marriage and a future. Every adventure, every Coors can, every mixed drink together, every night in her car together, every car meal, every little town in Vermont she’d drive through with you all comes racing around her head, and she cries.

Crying has become her daily habit, her sadness for losing it all with you. But her heart holds out for a future that might stand to be different for us.

She still dreams of that courthouse wedding, the letter you wrote with the words Gia Vahn Lackey sitting on those pages haunting the back of her mind.