November, the 12th
Dear Lexi,
Where to start... It’s been a while since we… talked for the very last time. I wish it had been a friendly conversation and not the stupid fight that it was. I don’t think I’ll ever get over with the fact that the last impression I gave you was the behavior of a spoiled little idiot, but I really don’t know how will I ever be able to show you that I’m not like that, at all.
Well talking to you isn’t an option. I’ve tried, but you don’t seem to listen. I guess I’ll just keep writing down my feelings on the paper, for therapeutic reasons, until I find a way to actually talk to you and make you understand that I am sorry.
But your family seems to hate me anyways. A few days after we… broke up, I went to visit your mom at your parents’ house, but when she opened the door, the cold sight she laid on me was enough for me to understand that I wasn’t welcome in their home anymore; I just left the bouquet of flowers I had taken with me at her doorstep, turned around and left.
Sometimes at night, I still think about you when I can’t sleep… to be honest, I still think about you all the time. In the morning, when I pour my coffee into my cup, sometimes I still forget you no longer live here with me, and still get two cups on the table. Two pancakes. Two forks. Two knives. Your favorite magazine still rests on the lap of your chair, and that old coat you didn’t take with you is still hanging on the hook next to the door at the entry hall.
When I lie on my bed at night, I still set the TV to your favorite show, because you used to love it when I did it. I still lie on my own bedside, and still sleep really close to the edge of the bed, like I always used to do so you could have all the space you needed to sleep comfortably.
The human body has this interesting thing. Memory. Once a person spends that much time with another, our bodies, minds and souls memorize each other. That’s why I still think you never left. Sometimes when I’m ready to start having dinner, I look over at your plate, and finally realize that the food in it won’t ever leave its place unless I throw it out. Suddenly everything becomes different. The house seems emptier. The air sounds quieter. And I begin to feel alone, lonelier and lonelier as the minutes go by. Then, the TV is just a mutter and it’s like I crashed into reality, remembering what happened, knowing that you’re not really there, ready to have dinner with me.
I wonder if you ever think about me, because I never really stopped thinking about you.
Love,
Sam
YOU ARE READING
From Sam to Lexi
Short StoryLexi was everything to Sam. He loved her deeply and never thought anything could happen and tear them both apart. But it did. In this book Sam writes nine letters to Lexi pouring his heart out. As Sam writes more and more letters to Lexi, you'll be...
