Dear Colt,

It’s been a while. I know I promised to write you after I left; I remember the day and exact words I used, actually. Anyway, um, how are you? I know when you read that last sentence you’ll laugh like you always did when I said ‘um’ in the middle of a sentence.
God, I miss you sometimes. The way your skin would crinkle up around your eyes when you smiled, or how you would use your thumb to trace my face, using such tenderness it nearly brought me to tears. I miss how, before we would say our goodnights after a date, you’d crack some dirty joke with the secret hope of me actually catching on and letting you inside for some ‘coffee’.

I can’t believe it’s been over four months since I left. It brings unwanted tears to my eyes every time I picture the look on your face when I said I was leaving, for good this time. I know I’ve apologized over and over…or have I? When I said sorry all those times, did I really, or was it all in my head? When I got on my knees at your feet and begged your forgiveness, was it all in my imagination? Did I dream up the scene where you sweep me off my feet halfway through my apology and kiss me, telling me in that silly voice of yours, “It’s all water under the bridge, lovely”? Yeah, I guess so.

This letter is really, really long. I’m sorry about that, too. If I got one dollar for every little thing I should’ve apologized to you for, I’d be richer than Oprah. I just thought that..well, catching up with you wouldn’t be that bad of an idea, but if you could tell from the stupid smudges all over the paper, I’m getting a little emotional here. Before I end up ripping the paper into tiny pieces and throwing it out the window of the train I’m on right now, I gotta ask you a question.

Do ya love me?

~Eva Lily