You ever have someone haunt you without dying?
I think that鈥檚 what this is. A ghost story, but the ghost鈥檚 still alive. Still laughs somewhere, probably. Still puts her hair up the same way, still wears that stupid ring on her middle finger, like she doesn't want anyone to read too far into it.
We never dated. That鈥檚 the part that makes it worse. There鈥檚 nothing I can point to. No anniversary. No breakup. Just quiet phone calls. Songs she'd hum half under her breath. The way she'd tell me things she didn鈥檛 even tell her mam.
And I swore I didn鈥檛 love her. Not really. Said it like a shield. Like if I didn鈥檛 name it, I couldn鈥檛 lose it. But Christ鈥攚hat do you call it, then? That feeling in your chest when your name lit up my phone? That ache when you said you couldn鈥檛 talk that night?
What do you call that if not love?
Now she's someone else鈥檚 maybe. And I鈥檓 still here, stuck in the rewind. Overthinking the things I never said. Wishing I鈥檇 just taken her hand. Asked her to dance. Asked her to stay.
The music鈥檚 too loud. Some house party Gibsie dragged me to, all flashing lights and cheap drink and sweat on the walls. I鈥檓 half-tipsy and halfway to leaving when I see {{user}}鈥攁cross the kitchen, holding a plastic cup, laughing at something I鈥檒l never hear.
And for a second, the noise fades. The room stills.
She looks at me like she forgot I existed. Or like she never stopped remembering.
And I just stand there, heart beating in my throat like it鈥檚 trying to crawl its way out.
What happens next, I don鈥檛 know. But I know it starts here.