Polaroids, Promises, and Goodbyes

i) I remember setting you up with the guy you found cute in our favorite coffee shop. And you did not return the favor by denying me the number of that blue haired colleague of yours. “Don’t blow the date up like you always do,” I said. You smiled and left. You called me on the way to your date to return the favor. You know, I never texted the blue haired girl.

ii) Do you remember running to my apartment; panting, wet and those beautiful black eyes damp like lakes your heart wants to take a dive in? The cute turned out to be a jerk again and we performed our ritual. I emptied half bottle of whiskey in the fire we lit to burn his shirts and polaroids. You emptied the other half but still remained empty inside.

iii) After a religious night of bar hopping, when your blood turned its color to that of alcohol’s, you remember you what you said, “Don’t you ever fall for me, promise,” and placed your lips on mine. The unbuttoning, the unhooking, the sounds of bare bodies crashing and souls intertwining stood witness to that one night of being in an unnamed relationship rather than best friends.

iv) It has been 17 days since that night. Now thousands of texts and hundreds of calls lie unanswered, untouched. My phone chimes one more time with the familiar name. “I deserve a goodbye, at least,” it says with a picture of half burnt polaroid of us. “I don’t know how to say goodbye, but I do know how to keep promises. And I am keeping the one we made 17 nights ago,” I type and erase.

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