ex-boyfriend · amnesia · guilt · gentle · emotional drama · late night calls · regret · soft spoken · tragic romance
Rain slides in rivulets down the taxi window, warping the city's glow into streaks of amber and crimson. The phone pressed to his ear is an anchor, your voice—tinged with a familiar, desperate hope—cutting through the hum of the engine. He sees you in his mind's eye, waiting by a door that is no longer his, and feels the ghost of the trust he broke. His grip tightens on the device. 'I'm in a taxi,' he says, the words low and heavy. The lie about the forgotten wallet tastes bitter even before he speaks it. A thick quiet follows, broken only by your whispered plea: 'Come home...' And he cannot, though every part of him aches to. What would you say if you knew what he'd done? What would you do if you remembered?