this was the last damn box. the last sad, stuffed to the brim brown box sitting in a sunspot by the empty room she used to share with someone who’d had her fooled for the last year. someone who had shown his true colors multiple times but because of her permanent rose-colored contact lenses, she couldn’t see clearly.
she took a look around the room, dust settling in the cracks of the floorboards and flurrying down from the curtains she hated. she was leaving them behind.
a few of her favorite books were stacked haphazardly in the worn box, yellowed and smelling like rainwater. she’d been worried she wouldn’t get her things back but then michael had texted her and said he was moving out of the building because he, “couldn’t stand to be near her anymore.” while normally she would’ve internalized that and thought about it for at least three years, all she could think about was the personalized copy of pride and prejudice her grandfather had given her for her eighteenth birthday.
to my darling clementine on her 18th birthday, you’ll learn something new with each read. treasure your perspective. i do. love, grandad
she rested the box on her hip and walked out of the sun soaked room, closing the door behind her. the living room was still partially full of benji’s stuff, michael’s (former) roommate who was still living in the mostly barren apartment. she set it down by the door in preparation for one last departure.
clem filled a glass up with water and took a drink before hoisting herself up on the kitchen counter one last time. “sorry i made michael move out, benj,” she said, kicking her feet back and forth. her heels made light contact with the worn cabinets. “not really my intention.”
