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Putting the EX in Text

I was already in a semi-sleep state.

I honestly wasn’t certain I was awake. It felt like a dream. One of those regular dreams where you do regular things where you swear the next day it really happened. I’ve had those dreams of regular days and when I hopped into bed and drifted to sleep, I woke up in the now, in the real.

Well, I wasn’t dreaming. My phone buzzed loudly and I turned over. I figured it was one of my friends lamenting something or an old POF person trying to test the boundaries my freak.

Bleary-eyed, I looked at my phone and it was him.

“The only way I can make this weekend happen is if I fly into Washington.”

I waited a good five minutes to craft a casual response. It was interesting. He knew my preference was BWI because I was so much closer than Reagan.

Was he looking for me to find an excuse to say no?

“If you want to come and flying into DC is the most feasible, then do it.”

Be cool, ice cold.

“I’ll do it in the a.m.”

Another five minutes.

“Ok.”

I got up out of bed. My mouth was horribly dry.

Shit just got real.

I then realized, he might be serious. Previous times he said he wanted to, but he was too scared. Or he didn’t know what to say, or he didn’t want to upset me.

But I wouldn’t be sure, until he confirmed “in the a.m.” that the tickets were purchased. And even then, anything could happen.

But what struck me was the convo felt strangely familiar.

Just like the old days, he was online at 12 midnight, Tuesday to check the efares. He’d report to me the best fares and times, and I’d say do it.

I made my way to the fridge in the dark and poured myself a cold glass of water.

 

 

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