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A shared notes doc from years ago still shows he's reading it, though neither of us has typed a line since March.


A shared notes doc from years ago still shows he's reading it, though neither of us has typed a line since March.
I still have her on Find My, five months after we stopped talking. Her dot hasn't moved in two days and neither will my thumb.
Her recommendation doc still says no rush. Three weeks later I still haven't written the honest paragraph.
A letter I've rewritten forty times, folded in my glovebox, taken out only at the gas pump. Tonight the handwriting didn't look like mine.
An old friend opened a candle shop. I've had a one-star review typed since Easter.
Nine years of being friends, and one hour at closing time where we weren't. We stood between our two cars and didn't use our keys.