“It’s been seven hours and fifteen days/Since you took your love away.”

And I finally asked after him. Max has been working on the stairs/deck since Thursday, and I finally asked after him on Sunday. I guess Mike calls him almost every day. Though Mike did tell me that a while back…he calls both his parents almost every day, if even for just five minutes. He’s got his service truck all outfitted and has already been sent out to fix stuff, which he didn’t think would happen for almost a month, so if it’s only been a week, it must be all coming back to him pretty quickly.

He hasn’t called me. I didn’t really expect him to. In some ways, it’s hard, and in other ways, it makes it easier. Clean break, moving on. But then, not hearing from him at all…it makes the whole thing feel like something I dreamed once. My memory gets a little hazy, and I have to try harder to recall those things I tried to fix in my mind. I don’t know if I would miss him more if I talked to him or now that I don’t. I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much, since it isn’t up to me.

To break up your regularly scheduled moping, I feel the need to mention I have had the worst time trying to type my own name today.