Hours became days. Days become weeks. Slowly, weeks became years.
Then she emailed. “Whatcha doin’?” Nothing more. Nothing less. A casual response as if we had talked just yesterday. Years had passed. I knew better. Something had happened. She was forced to write me off. Jealous husband? Possibly. But it must be deeper than that. A battered soul. Deep scars. Numerous events. Unwritten words. Bottled feelings. A mother lost, without my shoulder to cry on. Why?
Thousands of miles away, email has connected us. An unwanted connection, like the remnants of toilet paper stuck to the sole, from a public bathroom. Unwanted. Go away.