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Something Like That

I saw them on the subway the other day. Your battered green suitcase with the tear in the right corner. Your woven purse, faded because it had seen so many sunny days. And your scarf too. It was red, as I recall, with orange trim and a little stain (coffee perhaps, or maybe blood) in the shape of a bear (that’s what I thought, at least). Your boots, I suppose, had grown lonely at home in your closet, so they tagged along as well. They’d not been worn since high school, junior year I think, when they trekked through the woods to my house. Ah, your necklace. That was there too, in the woods that day, and on the subway. I thought you’d lost it. Maybe my memory’s not as reliable as it once was. I saw your ripped jeans (no story behind those, because you bought them like that), paired with your favorite black t-shirt. The one you wore four weeks ago when we last talked. The one I cried on ten years ago when we found out about Chris (life wasn’t quite the same without his smile, was it?).

Sadly, though, I didn’t see you there. I had something to tell you (I’m not sure whether you’ll be happy about it or not), but I suppose it can wait a little longer. You’ll be glad to know, I think, that there was another girl there keeping them company (she looked a little like you, actually), and I think they’ll be well taken care of till you come back.

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Categories: Short Stories
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