What is Left Behind is a work of fiction.
Three photos. That is all that’s left of 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 would 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 anymore. 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 into 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 would lie to them and I would 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 had just forgotten 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.
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