Chibimagic's Weblog


Posted on: February 10, 2014

As I descend the stairs, I catch him at the edge of my vision—and freeze. It takes a second to realize that it’s not actually him. Same hard beard line along his jaw, same angular face, same close cropped hair. But it’s not him. He is 350 miles away, working. Or 2000 miles away in graduate school. I haven’t kept up. I continue towards my destination, shaken.

It was like this last time, too. Visiting down south, exploring the new buildings and paths on campus, when suddenly—but of course he would be there. It was his senior year, and he would be scrambling around trying to get everything wrapped up for graduation. And with only 2000 students—900 counting undergrads only—it’s easy to run into people. Especially back at the House where we were both members. Which I hadn’t visited.

I was too shocked to be anything but cordial. I was prepared to feel rage, at how things ended, at how he’d treated me. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him. If he even thought of it anymore. But the chance meeting was so abrupt that I didn’t have time to react. We exchanged minimal pleasantries and continued on our ways.

Our courtship had been sudden and accelerated. Within 4 weeks we went from not having spoken a word to each other, to moving in together for the summer. The first time we spoke it lasted all night. By the end of the first week he had effectively moved in to my room.

But that was a quarter-lifetime ago. And I had not thought of him in years. Strange that he should still have such power over me. And worrying. My vision blurs. I shove him back into his box inside my mind and hastily wrap it up. Back into the closet of dusty memories with you: this scab still seeps blood when picked.

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