Another 1.5 drabble.
These are the things he remembers: the angle of the light coming in through the window, dusty glass smeared with fingerprints; the hiss of static in his ear. The subtlety of loss.
Not every love is great. Or even worthy of memory. And some memories are fickle -- so fickle that even love, that seemed at the time to be all that was important in the world... even love fades from their minds, fast as the flick of a carp's tail in a fishpond.
"Are you there?" he's been calling, calling for years, and there has been no answer. "Will you come back?"
And maybe it's time, he's coming to realize: maybe it's time to let that go. To let these memories he holds so dear fade, until nothing remains.
Jeb hangs up before the call goes through. It's time to let all this go.
Iggy never loved him back, anyway.