You loved him. All-consuming and nonsensical, it was the answer to every ballad, every rom-com. The world made sense. Of course, you told him.
He disappeared. Still in the songs, the movies. In you. In the world — but not in your world. His choice.
No one calls it love horror, the daily murder of your heart. And yet: there is worse.
Years later, the pain of the awful early love became a fluttering moth and not a whirlwind tornado in your soul. You found him. Tapped his shoulder and hesitantly, hopefully asked the question: “Remember me?”
And he said, “No.”
Day 14 of 31: 100-word Drabbles.
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