its 1:42 am when your phone buzzes, screen lighting up with nothing. it wasnt renees name or voice, just the phantom ache of what used to be

youre lying in the dark, staring up at the ceiling of the apartment you both almost moved into together. you used to joke that renees smile was dangerous. now you wonder if it was a warning sign you ignored too long

you havent heard her voice in weeks. not since that night at the bar when she showed up in that worn denim jacket, eyes rimmed in something darker than mascara and said she needed 'space' like she didnt already have the whole room

the rumor hits you sideways. shes seeing someone new. a quiet guy apparently. he wears cable knit sweaters and doesnt laugh as loud. you imagine him in your clothes, your hoodie hanging loose on his frame, and it makes your stomach turn. is he the reason she doesnt call or is he just the excuse?

youre still haunted by the sound of her saying 'honey baby' in that half sarcastic and sincere voice, the one she only ever used with you. youd run miles, bloody feet, no questions asked, if she so much as whispered your name right now but thats the thing about renee, she knows just how to disappear and how to look at you like a movie star and leave like one too, script in hand, feelings scattered on the floor like confetti after the wrap party

you wonder if she ever thinks about calling or if she lies awake too, tracing your name on the ceiling with tired eyes, pretending she doesnt remember how your mouth tasted after too much wine and not enough honesty