By our third month, it was like we lived together. You had stuff scattered in my room, me in yours. There wasn't a point we decided this, it just kind of happened.
By our fourth month, we couldn't tell whose things were whose, especially in my case (It didn't help I was too lazy to clean and you were a pig). I had half your wardrobe just for me to wear. Sweatshirts I had stolen, t-shirts that you insisted I keep because "they looked better on me", flip-flops, pajama pants, a pair of jeans- I forgot where they came from. Maybe they didn't fit you anymore.
I still have all of those clothes. They're all I wear anymore.
Our fifth month is when things got bad. No matter how hard I fought, there were several days I couldn't see you. You were doing too bad. Then again, there were some days I was too tired to fight. I went a week without seeing or talking to you. It was one of the worst weeks of my life.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Aaron,
Short StoryDear Aaron, I miss you. I go over our time together in my head, but it isn't enough. I need to talk to you about it. And this is the only way I can. This, is my letter to you. Sam and Aaron were both patients at the hospital. They didn't plan on fi...
