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Everything reminds her of him.
She is trying to erase him, but she doesn't want to erase him. She's turned to psychics and astrology - anything to get him out of her hair. She draws the line at the pendant and the daisy. She won't remove the pendant and justifies it because it wasn't a gift - she bought it - and it's very Aquarius looking.
The daisy is more complex.
The daisy she keeps because it reminds her of Nancy, his mother. She remembers him coming into her house with white flowers before he was going to go on his shoot and fly to Detroit - motor city. She was shocked. He did not seem the flowers type, and she was correct. Having them be the flowers given to him to commemorate the death of his mother made it weird, and she loved it. The pressed daisy doesn't hurt quite as much because she says to it, "Nancy, he broke both of our hearts, and I love your little boy like key fitting in a lock. I will try my very best to honor him." She doesn't tell her she wants to win him back. That's for her secret heart.
The day was a gorgeous January spring day. It was supposed to hit 70. She had seen a bee inside of a dandelion on her neighborhood walk. The birds sang like happiness.
She wanted to bang her fucking head on the wall until the pain in her heart went away. Did he ever love her? She doubted it. Would he ever?
The ominous birds that apparently lived in the neighborhood now - the big black non-ravens with white beaks - circled.
She had gotten Wordle in two. It made her laugh because that had been the gambit for the text she wanted to send him like a drug before. Something like "Oy vey. I think I get you now. Thank you for all the gifts, and I had a lovely time with you. Merci (Worldle in two today)".
The psychic told her he wasn't contacting her and that he was a guys guy all performance of manliness. She said he might contact her in a year or more. Yesterday, she hung to that like a fucking breath of air in the deep sea.
Today, she was mad at herself for still caring. It had only been eight days Narcissi.
She was going to play Bingo apparently this evening. It was something. She dreaded it, but what didn't she dread beyond the wish for him to "Whassup" her.
The steel cut oats were done. She was washing her bedsheets (huzzah!). She was wearing shorts so she could also wash the cashmere sweatpants she bought so she could jokingly join his tribe. She was going to have to go to the grocery store soon.
Life ticked. Life tocked.
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