What is left behind

[This is a work of fiction.]

Three photos. That is all that’s left from you.

Back then, taking photographs was much harder than now. You had bought that film for that last college party. While placing the film in the camera, you remembered we had no photo together, just the two of us. See, we always used to care more about living our moments, not taking photos out of them. You took those three photos yourself using your long arm while hugging me using the other. We were supposed to choose the best out of them. 

Along with those photos there were also some of your stuff. One t-shirt, your desk, some books. At the time I could swear that I would keep them forever. I wanted them to remind me of you.

Two years later I had already gotten rid of them. I did not even care much about letting them go… 

We had a plan. You were supposed to leave only for a year or two. We would still be in touch, call each other, try to meet from time to time. Yes, you were supposed to visit me back home and I was supposed to visit you there. 

We had made these promises. Promises we felt we needed to give to each other, to make the pain of separation smaller. All these endless hours I used to spend at work after you left. There seemed to be no reason to leave on time any more. You wouldn’t be at home waiting for me. 

Those first months I used to get back home really late at night. Tired to hell. So tired that I couldn’t even think how much I missed you. So tired that I would fall asleep as if I was falling in a small coma every time.

I remember how mean and indistinguishable everyone seemed to my eyes when they kept on asking about you. 

Where is he?

How is he doing there? 

I used to give fake answers smiling, hoping secretly that they hadn’t spoken with you. I used to lie to them. I used to lie to myself as well. I didn’t want the truth to be heard out loud. 

The truth is that I never even saved your new number. I can still recall the old one. Even if I wanted to forget it, I never could.

But what about the new one?

I tricked myself by telling him that I just forgot where I wrote it. I never meant to call you anyway. 

To be honest, I don’t even know if you ever called me.

I never pick up the phone from unknown numbers. 

2 thoughts on “What is left behind

  1. This short story is very emotive and also paints a really good picture of what happened in this relationship. Not so easy to accomplish in such a short piece. Really nice work!

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