I'd forgotten him, long ago, for it had been years since we dated and a millennia since we moved in together. And here I am, meeting him at a Subway.
I'd just gotten my sandwich, in a spur of a rush, simply just trying to get home on time for an online meeting but, no, there he was.
I barely recognized him, for it'd been so long since I even thought about him. There was no mistaking the snap back and the fringe that covers his eyebrows, or that reptilian pale skin.
"[Name]?"
It was he who spoke first, not surprising actually. I had almost forgotten the nasal of his voice, or the way his lips move when he speaks. There's an awkwardness to both of us, clearly, and yet he still makes the effort to speak up.
"Uh... heeeeey Calvin!" Forcing the excitement in my voice was almost impossible, then again it was probably easy to see through the facade.
"You look... different."
His eyes look me up and down and a rage settles itself at my fingertips, an anxiety causes my hands to tremor. It feels judging, ever so sharp and slow, and it feels like I know what he's thinking.
"Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said anything," He takes a second to pause, looking around the place to avoid that split second of eye contact, "Uh.. how are you.. or, how have you been?"
"Good."
I feel blunt but with each second passing in his presence, I feel a disgust start to bubble in my stomach, like the facade was breaking, like I couldn't keep my tongue-tied. Another moment passes, as he waits for me to continue, to elaborate.
"You're absolutely revolting, you know that, right?"
His eyes widen, he seems shocked, "...What? You're joking.. right?"
"God, no," I laugh, airy and soft, for I'd already come to terms with everything he's done, and what he seems to do now, "I've seen you around on Twitter. You are just terrible, so simply dog shit in your views and status."
"So you still fucking stalk me?"
"Did I ever stalk you?" I spit back, "In the end, it felt like you were the one begging me to stay."
"I did fucking not!"
The subway worker glances up, then back down again, shoulders now tense.
"It's not about that," I'm surprised at the confidence I've grown, especially in front of someone who had hurt me so badly a decade ago, "You ruined the internet for years and stained a generation, made kids grow up to be shit, made me grow up to be shit, I hope you fucking know that."
"Oh!" Calvin makes a big hand gesture, close to jazz hands, "Is it because I hate trans people? Ohhh, or maybe because I still joke about a fucking tragedy! Big whoopdy doo!"
I give him a look, not of amusement or of anger, it's only disappointment.
"Pathetic, you are just pathetic."
Quickly, before he can have the last word, or nag me any longer, I slam a twenty dollar bill atop the counter and snatch my sandwich off of it.
"Also fuck you!"
I yell, right as I slam the glass door open and strut out with every pound of confidence I have left. Even if there's a lump in the back of my throat, there is a new feeling of closure and comfortability that comes with leaving him at that.
He's dogshit, and I am on to live a better life, a better life than him.
