Ivy
The week blurred together. I didn’t go back to the firm. I didn’t answer my phone. I didn’t check email. Lexi texted me once:
“So you finally took the hint. About time.” I deleted it before I could cry. By Wednesday, I had made a list of things to do. Laundry. Bills. Groceries. I completed none of them. By Thursday, I’d stared at the same blank page in my journal for over an hour before giving up. And by Friday, I needed to breathe.
I went to get dinner from the Thai place a few blocks down, maybe a coffee. Something normal. Something outside the apartment where everything reminded me of him. I was clutching my takeout bag when I heard his voice. I didn’t hear what he said. Just his voice. Familiar and low, tight in the way he only sounded when he was trying not to show emotion.
