U smell like purple flowers. The ambulance is close-by. I pace the hallways of our haunted house and wonder, if this is the last time I'll see you alive, if I'll kill myself. Suddenly, Vanier seems scary and mean. Suddenly, I don't seem so tough. It's 11:30 pm at night, half an hour away from when we were supposed to start partying again, and you don't seem so alive.
It's me who's different this year because my bf isn't here and I'm alone again. I think of his ex, somewhere in Blackburn, struggling without thinking about me or where he's touching me. She never has to be jealous again. I think about my belongings and how I own them now, how he could never give away my stuff again. I hope it's worth it.
He chain-smoked. He smoked in my house. I told him we can't smoke in here but I opened the windows for him nonetheless, I let him do whatever he wanted to. I can't stop myself from thinking about him today on his deathaversary, like that, with his chain around his neck, dead.
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