It wasn't a pathetic letter. It wasn't anything I'd look back at later and regret. I knew what the outcome might be and I was prepared for all the negative consequences that were most likely inevitable.
It was just something more or less like, "Fuck, it's been almost a year. Weird? No hard feelings, I hope? I still miss your friendship despite all this shit. You know I'm always around, right?"
I hadn't heard anything back until 3:20 pm this afternoon.
The office mail came in and a coworker walked up with a package.
"Hey, is this your's? It looks like your handwriting, but I saw this weird note on the back."
My eyes flashed and I nervously grabbed the package from his hands.
"Uh yeah, it's mine. Oh weird, uh... from my... step sister."
"Yeah, okay."
That was dumb.
The package was unopened, but the front was plastered with the dreaded words RETURN TO SENDER and UNABLE TO FORWARD. But it still smelled faintly of my cologne (a dirty little trick on my part, I admit).
On the back was written in an all too familiar handwriting:
I don't hate you.
I will just contact you when I'm read.. and right now,
I'm not ready.
I'm sorry.
My face is on fire and I'm embarrassed.
I feel like puking tortilla soup.
No comments:
Post a Comment