2,190 Days

His eyes. 

That is why he is so unfamiliar to me, such a mystery of flesh and bone.

He’s funny. Human.

I forget how to be a manic pixie dream girl, forget to keep a distance and analyze without emotion.

He should be predictable. Easy. At least that’s what I thought, but assumptions make me a fool any time I make them.

We grew up together, and by that I mean same school district, same teachers, same hallways to walk through with arms full of books.

In kindergarten we played house and the devil wore a black and white striped referee jersey and I remember that moment in its entirety and we loved each other.

But now, he is a mystery. He is different.

I assumed too much and knew too little.

And now I am in the predicament of 2,190 days.


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