What began as naughty rebellion turned into something neither of us expected. He told me about his failed engagement, how he took this job to escape his old life. I told him about my father’s drinking, how I acted out because being invisible felt worse than being hated.
I’m a writer now. I live in a city he once mentioned loving. Sometimes I think I see him in crowded coffee shops — the same slouch, the same hands. But it’s never him.
“This can’t happen again.”
What began as naughty rebellion turned into something neither of us expected. He told me about his failed engagement, how he took this job to escape his old life. I told him about my father’s drinking, how I acted out because being invisible felt worse than being hated.
I’m a writer now. I live in a city he once mentioned loving. Sometimes I think I see him in crowded coffee shops — the same slouch, the same hands. But it’s never him.
“This can’t happen again.”