I don’t remember how and when we stopped talking. But I know when I began missing him. When formality engulfed our interactions, when we paused a wee bit longer before typing out a text, when we skipped updating each other about weekend plans.
We spoke. And often at that. But the zing was amiss. He said that I let him down. That I blamed him unfairly. I said I had wanted to be left alone. Surely that wasn’t much to ask for, out of my own life. But we differed. Like we did on most issues.
Somewhere along the way, we had slipped into the comfortable “we” zone. And it had slipped my mind that it was no longer my time alone.