It’s raining. It’s apparently always raining. It was raining the day we met, it was raining the day we first kissed and it was raining the day she decided to leave me. Well, not decided, but she did leave me.
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I think about her most, when I wish I wouldn’t. As I’m trying to lull myself to sleep, or while I sit in class trying to think of formulas that don’t equal her. It’s hard forcing yourself not to think about someone. It’s as if your mind is a locked room and they posses a spare key.
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It was September when we first met. She was working at my favourite coffee shop. I asked her for her number and to my utter amazement, she gave it to me. It took me a week to finally press call after dialling the ten digits into my phone. It took her another week after that to get up the courage to answer me.
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Her name was Sarah. Sarah Baker. One night, I took her to a party. We danced, we drank, we through up. It was the best night of my life. Sadly, it was quickly followed by the worst morning I’d ever indured. I woke up with a pounding headache and a pissed off stomach. She called me that day, sounding groggy and sick.
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“ Carsen?” She said.
“ yeah?” I answered.
“ I love you.” She said.
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I froze. That was the first time she’d ever said those words to me. It took me almost a minute to say them back, but as I did, I knew they were true.
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Our relationship just got better from there. We didn’t go to anymore parties, but we found other ways to occupy ourselves. I hand’t realized how much I needed her until she was gone.
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The last night I had with her was one I will never forget. She told me stories about her many deceased pets, most of which were fish. I accused her of being a fish murderer, she hit my arm playfully, but I grabbed it. I pulled her forward and touched my lips to hers. They tasted like the the artificial strawberry flavour of her lipgloss. I’d grown to love that taste over the months that we’d spent together. I wish I’d known that was the last time I would ever taste it.
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That night, Sarah was driving home with her father when a drunk driver hit them at a red light.
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They were both hospitalized, but Sarah didn’t make it. I’ve imagined her sitting in that car so many times I’m almost convinced that I was there. Sarah would have been on her phone, texting me. Her dad probably would have been making jokes, laughing until the end. I even have a vivid image in my mind of the man who crashed into them. I feel like my blood is boiling whenever I think of his intoxicated face.
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It’s raining. I am standing in front of her house, my t-shirt and jeans are soaked. I’m looking down at my phone. At the last text I’ll ever receive from her.
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everything dies eventually.
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We were talking about the fish from before, but those words hit me every time my tear filled eyes look at the screen.
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“ Oh the irony” is what I imagine she would say.
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