It’s the little things I remember most: the first time I caught a hit of her perfume, the moment her ankle crossed mine and she decided to leave it there, the exact height of her bed and color of the sheets, a certain sundress and the way she let the left strap wander down her shoulder.
I am deluding myself – I remember every fucking thing about ADA. So when I saw her virtual fingerprints on certain parts of this blog yesterday morning, I swallowed hard and blinked four times hoping to refocus my eyes after a long Saturday night without a decent interval of sleep. Between StatCounter and my imagination, I was left with the indelible mental picture of ADA lying in her bed of certain height and linens slightly off white and reading my thoughts about our time together.
The picture was at least as hard to remove as the questions, and thoughts of wishes left unfulfilled.
Does she know that it was unordinary for me? Am I really over her? What was she thinking as she read? Why do I care so much? Will the thought of her always have this power over me? These questions and more ping-ponged through my mind while showered.
As I dressed for day four of basketballapalooza, I closed my laptop with more force than required. I wonder if that chapter of my life will ever close, or if I ever want it to?