I don't think of you as often anymore, but when I do, it's always the things that I know I will never get over.
Like the time I was out in the rain and you were waiting for me at home. I had my phone in my bag because I didn't want to get it wet, so I didn't hear the 36 attempts you made to get through to me. All in a span of 30 minutes.
Or the time we had fought the previous night and you kept trying to reach me because you wanted to pick me up from work. The missed calls kept adding up again. And then a few years later, when we both knew we had reached the end. Yet, for some reason, you wanted to speak to me, maybe it was to protect your interests or something similar. But I remember the missed calls and they were more than ever before. I didn't answer on purpose because I thought it would be easier that way.
This week, it rained and poured over a span of a couple of days. The city was flooded, but I had a narrow escape and was lucky enough to make it home safely. There were no calls, obviously not from you, but not from anyone else either. And it makes me wonder if I will ever have that again. Someone who wants to know if I am okay and who won't give up until he finds out.
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