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The Breakup Text
This short story is one of my favorites. Hope you enjoy. <3 Jules
The Breakup Text
I'd read the text seven times.
Make that eight...nine...ten times.
Those four iconic words on my phone screen.
We.
Need.
To.
Talk.
Talk?
That's what we do best. We communicate. We work things out. We have a pact that we won't go to bed mad. We have respect and connection.
Who does this?
Who sends a cryptic text after their love has been out of town for a week? Who makes my cab ride home from the airport a miserable thirty-two minutes of hell?
My soon-to-be ex-boyfriend is who.
The ocean spray dusting the air, which I usually used as an indicator that I was home, wasn't enough to change my deteriorating thoughts. If anything the smell flavored everything, including my attitude, with a caustic briny tang. The purple and pink sunset radiated a happiness that I decided to ignore in reverence to my breaking heart. A jumble of memories pulled my shoulders forward and I wiped a tear.  
Five years? Five wonderful years. Trashed.
Time spent devoted to a man who can't wait until I get home to make me miserable. "College sweethearts who couldn't make it for the long haul," that's what our families would say.  "Saw it coming," was what our friends would say, even if they couldn't possibly have. "Too bad, but there are other fish in the sea," was what the world would say.
Nothing they would say would make me feel better. Nothing would take away the ache already pounding my heart like the ocean waves against the rocks.
Everything?
I'd given him everything. My body. My heart. My love. My passion. My devotion. And I'd sworn I had the same from him.
Lies?
Every special moment was now all lies. Now we were the butt of some joke between him and his buddies. I'd felt worshipped. But now I was only a piece of garbage waiting to be discarded to the curb.
Memories?
That last birthday party he threw for me. That surprise trip he took me on to Vegas for our last anniversary. That last Valentine's Day where he told me he was waiting for the right time to ask me to spend the rest of his life with him. I guess rest of his life only meant six months, three days, and eighteen hours cause I was mad enough to kill him the closer I got to the apartment.
The clock ticked down.
Ten, nine, eight...
Minutes?
We'd been together almost three million minutes and now these last few were the ones I'd never forget.
My heart cracked into three million pieces.
We were meant to be together.
I paid the cab driver and climbed the two flights of steps.
He normally met me at the ground level and carried my bags.
Not today.
Not ever again.
I opened the door.
"Will you marry me?" he said on bended knee.
 
 
Love addict with a sarcastic pink glow. Martini connoisseur, fuzzy sock collector, baseball fanatic & pro-dandelion. And an author--I always forget that one.
http://www.julesdixon.com