I remember when

I remember when you showed up at my bedroom door with a sesame bagel (scooped out) and a small hot chocolate. You let yourself in because one of my roommates left the apartment unlocked. It was very cold that morning. Fresh snow covered the streets and the sky was a dark white. It seemed like no one was going outside; there were very few footprints on the sidewalk.

(Later that morning I looked for the imprint of your sneakers in the snow. I wanted to know: had you been pacing outside my window the night before? Had you been looking inside my bedroom from the street?)

That morning, when you opened my bedroom door, you found:

I was asleep in bed with some guy. What you saw was a scene of intimacy. My head, his shoulder, no clothes, full REM. But really, (and later I tried to explain this to you) I was asleep in bed with some guy who was kind of repulsive to me.

Anyway.

You left the apartment without making a sound.

When I woke up I found the hot chocolate and (scooped out) sesame bagel on the kitchen table. Next to them was every letter I had ever written you (every post card, picture, note, magazine clipping - everything) torn up in a pile. The hot chocolate was still warm.

The guy I had been asleep next to stumbled into the kitchen. I imagine myself saying something very ominous to him, like, "It's not safe here, you must go." I imagine that he was confused, and I know he left.

I put all the food in the trash, and put the torn up letters on my bed. I cried and spread the pieces out on the sheets. I tried to put one back together and then gave up after a few seconds because I felt like an idiot.

You must've known that morning what you'd find when you showed up at my door. You must've planned it that way. Me, seeming like the bad one. You, the hapless victim. Bringing me food was too out of character for you. Too saccharine.

The fact that the bagel was scooped out did seem thoughtful for a moment. A moment.

A few hours later I went to the deli and got my usual order. I had been ignoring your mean texts all morning "I hate you, you're awful, blah blah blah," but suddenly I couldn't resist.

I got out my phone and texted you: "Was the hot chocolate with skim milk or whole?"

I don't think I've ever hated someone more.