February 1st, 2016
Dear Mikey... Michael,
They say I should write to you and tell you about the accident.
I'm not sure why I have to write to you; don't we live together?
At least, that's what I last remember.
We still live together, don't we?
Wait, I live with Luke?
You and I have lived together since freshman year of college.
Of course we still live together!
Apparently I'm wrong.
Apparently we haven't lived together for three years.
I don't remember three years passing by.
I don't remember our breakup.
I don't remember dating Luke.
I just remember you and me.
We woke up in the same bed this morning, didn't we?
You made your usual morning coffee.
I drank my morning tea.
You still intern at Portland Tech, don't you?
I intern there, at least.
At least that stayed the same.
We walked together to work this morning, didn't we?
'This morning" actually means three years ago.
I keep forgetting.
Right: back to the part of me not remembering anything.
I remember falling asleep last night--or was it three years ago?--in our apartment, tucked in your arms.
But when I woke up, all I heard was worried voices above me.
They didn't know I was awake, even after I'd opened my eyes.
You would've noticed in a heartbeat, I'd reckon.
After awhile, Luke noticed.
I wasn't surprised that Luke was there.