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The Brown Jacket
It was my birthday. It was my 15th birthday, and I was in tears.
He had broken my heart.
He had told me to have a nice life.
He said, “Maybe I’ll see ya around…”
My friend Kayla sat with me. We were in Starbucks, drinking grande hot chocolates.
It was cold and windy outside. It fit my mood.
When he was around, it was sunny and warm…
My eyes hurt from the tears.
Kayla tried to make me feel better. “Happy birthday, I suppose”, she said cautiously.
An early morning text that screamed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!”
I felt the tears coming then.
I tried to stop them from their downward spiral.
Spilling over, falling…
My breath catching.
“He was the first one to tell me happy birthday today…”
He jumped out of the car, his first words, “happy birthday”…
“Oh…I’m sorry….” Kayla whispered.
I had his jacket on.
The brown plaid one, with the tear in the left sleeve.
He hadn’t asked for it back yet.
It smelled like him…his Axe…
It was a blessing and a curse.
Everything reminded me of him.
Glaring, obvious reminders that only I saw.
The girl at the next table has the same phone as him…
The song playing overhead…he played it on his guitar…
No one understood.