You need to read this wonderful 'Memory is a Disease' by Fu'ad Lawal

You made sure he took everything when he was leaving.

All his clothes. His books. That toaster he always obsessed about. His toothbrush. The flower vase that never had flowers in them.

You delete his number.

When he was done, and gone, you scrubbed the entire house with disinfectant. Everything he had touched made you sick.

By the time you were done, even the house felt lighter. You swore to start afresh. Leave the past behind you.

5 days after, you were picking a dress for a party. You chose that dress at the end of your wardrobe, and as you pulled it out, a white vest fell out. It’s a singlet. His singlet.

You wanted to pick it and trash it immediately, but you held back. You couldn’t touch it. You couldn’t touch anything of him. So you shut your wardrobe quickly, hoping it will be gone when you get back.

Silly.

By the time you got back, it was still there. You ignored it. You tried to pretend it didn’t exist, but it was all you could think about. 3 days. One week. Two. A miserable singlet is all that stood between you and moving on.

So you said fuck it.

You picked it, went past the trash in your kitchen to the main trash outside.

Done.

Now, as you walk in, and you try to brush your hair from your face, you catch his smell on your fingers.

It’s stale. Perfume and sweat. 2 in the morning. Panting and moaning.

Everything comes rushing back.

Your eyes are bleeding saltwater.

You pick up your phone and try to call. You change your mind and text instead. There’s no need for a phonebook.

Heck, you know the number by heart. The text is sent in seconds.

ALSO READ: 'In the End' by Fu'ad Lawal