Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
The first time I walked into Casey's office to give her a file folder – I couldn't stop thinking of it as your office – I was torn between wanting to burst into tears and wanting to hit something. She was sitting at her – your – desk, doing some paperwork. She looked up when I came into the room. "Yes?"
You never said, "Yes?" In the beginning, you said, "What?" as if I was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, or just as unwanted at any rate. Then you would give me a smile and say, "Hey," as if my presence was the highlight of your day. And in the end, you would get up to greet me, wrapping your arms around my neck and leaning in for a kiss. That was when we realized that these precious moments would be limited, so we had better make the most of them when we could.
I threw the file on the desk and bolted out of there, running to the washroom and heaving everything in my stomach until there was nothing left. I knew I had to get out of there. I had to escape that office of shadows and ghosts and pain.
I stormed out of the washroom and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I whirled around and threw my fist through the wall. My knuckles exploded in pain, blood seeping from my open wound. But the pain was what I'd wanted, and I barely cared.
If you were here, you'd take my torn hand and bring it to your lips as a parent does to a child. Your kisses always made it better.
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