He Called Me Needy, Then Lost

y Gla

he realization was a heavy stone in my stoma

-way. To Portland, Oregon. My hometown

the hospital, for my anxiety and depression. It felt like

d had gathered, craning their necks, whispering excitedly. Bright lights glared, and a cl

d to get my check-up and leave. I skirted the edges of

That deep, resonant laugh. My bl

ide him, a vision in a white dress, was Alana Edwards. They were filming a scene. My scene. A scene I' d written

ocked. His brow furrowed. A flicker of surprise, then something unreadable, cr

s. I didn't care what he saw, what he thought. I was done. I kept walking, faster and faster

r maybe I did, and I chose to ign

a's voice, high-pitched and inq

ance. Or perhaps, My girlfriend. The irony was thick enough to choke on. The girl

k. He clenched his jaw. Alana, ever the observant co-star

Just... a little distracted." He glanc

ed, her voice laced with a playful

y... girlfriend." The word fe

und. "Oh, that Bailey. She's always popping up, is

s a little insecure sometimes." He was trying to defend me, but it sou

e about my flower shop. His last response was a curt "K." A sudden, cold dread settled in his chest. He scrolled further back,

rate attempts to connect. And how he' d dismissed t

up in the drama with Alana, with his career, that he hadn't noticed the silence growing between us. He'

mber. It rang once, twice, then went straight to voicemail. Then, a message

ult. He opened Instagram, then Facebook. His prof

was... final. He suddenly realized what I'd forgotten to tell him. What I'd forgotten to do. He'd never s