long lost love
"You are my rock," he says.
"You are trouble," she says.
Their eyes have not grazed each other for over six years. Yet, when they speak nothing has changed except in their lack of contempt for each other.
"Come visit me this weekend," he demands.
"Why don't you come here?" she asks.
"I don't need to be reminded of all the horrible memories," he replies.
"I'm reminded on a daily basis and it really isn't fair that you moved away. Besides the city has changed so much since you left. I think you'd really like it," she pleads in defense.
They dance with words for over an our. Around and around, "please come," always followed by a, "no."
On the phone and e-mail she can compartmentalize him. He isn't real, he's the past. To see him, to touch him again, would be more than her spirit could handle.
He would destroy her.
Again.
She wishes she was sure of that.
