Nineteen Days Labeled Steps
My habit tracker says 'steps.' It's day nineteen of not texting him, and I found the loophole that keeps it alive.
I deleted his number in June. Told my roommate. Told him too, actually, one text: I need space, don't reach out. Then I made a habit tracker on my phone, the kind with a little flame that grows every day you check the box. I named it 'steps' so nobody scrolling past my lock screen would ask.
Day nineteen tonight. I stood at the sink doing the same four dishes for the third time because the water was already running and I didn't want to be the one who turned it off.
Here's the part I don't put in the streak. Checking the box doesn't require me to actually stay away from him. Just that I don't text. So most nights I open his contact page first, read the last message I sent, the one he never answered, and then I check the box like I earned it clean.
Tonight I got as far as the call button before I backed out. My thumb was already lifted off the screen when I noticed I'd been holding my breath since the kitchen.
I checked the box anyway. Day twenty tomorrow. The flame doesn't know the difference between staying away and just barely not going back, and neither, some nights, do I.