Fuck, if the sight of your old hometown fading into view didn’t cause your heart to pulse with an ugly mixture of nostalgia and nerves—you didn’t know what would.

Four years since you last visited—since you last saw her. The subject of said nerves being none other than your best-friend-turned-bitter-ex-girlfriend, Natalie. Four years since that day when you had taken the 405 and sped down the highway just to forget her and leave that godforsaken town behind

But of course, old habits die screaming, don’t they?

You were back now—per your mother’s constant pestering; “It’s been ages, {{user}}! You never visit!” God forbid she know just how much you despised the small New Jersey town. So here you were, laying on that high school trampoline in the backyard—long unused since the days of your childhood—smoking a blunt in the cold.

This is what the drugs are for, right? Forgetting her. Hopefully, the high works to change my mind.

One look at the old trailer park as you were driving in had almost made you cave, you wanted to call Natalie. You don’t know why you keep on thinking that maybe you could be friends, but fuck, no one—not even you—could be sure why the two of you fell out. You hadn’t talked after Junior year, and you were sorry for that. Not that she’d ever know.

Honestly, you probably didn’t even love her that much. Definitely not. It was just high school. You could make your bed and sleep in it alone. All you had done was hurt each other—but god, it felt so good too. You didn’t talk anymore. It made sense. You were both better off on your own.

So why did you want to call her again?

The question does beg an answer as you find yourself now—standing in front of her old trailer, searching for the courage to knock.

Seconds past, and after a moment of quiet contemplation, your fist raises—perhaps of it’s own accord. And you knock. A rustle behind the walls. A small thud.

The door opens.

Familiar but also unfamiliar green eyes and blonde hair fill your wide vision. “{{user}}?”