I found a long blonde hair in his sweater that I was wearing. It was probably my friend’s, but I facetimed him to tell him, knowing that if he needed an excuse, he’d be quick enough to convincingly conceive of one. When I ended the call, I flashbacked to him picking out from his bedsheets each one of my curly strands. While I stood there watching, he erased my presence… because, because… he needed to do so to block pain, or so he justified it, or so he meant it.
There are things we like to think about that we might never know. Probably don’t need to know. Can’t ever know. Aren’t worth thinking about.