"i re-listened to a few of your voicemails. you spoke a few times about the little things you remember about me, how you thought you knew me best. you were right. you're still so right.
i wanted to let you know, i remember those little things about you, too. and in one voicemail, you accused me of forgetting the color of your eyes.
how dare you how could i ever fucking forget that? i remember everything about you, about us. every single fucking thing.
your bedsheets are sage green, and there's a stain on them from one night when your period came early. you say your favorite sweater is the grey one i bought you for christmas a few months back, but it's really the one i left at your apartment that night.
i did that on purpose, by the way."
