I've misplaced my toothbrush. No, not really, but that's how it feels. It's hard to believe I've been on this ride for almost a year now. It's even weirder when I remember she moved out three months ago, and I haven't seen her ghost in over a month. I miss her, but not in great gasping aches; it's more like faint rappings at the back of my skull.
"Where's my toothbrush?"
Sometimes it's tangibly real; all five senses set out tendrils, straining to grasp what's missing. Other times, it's a dry ice fog nightmare. Shapes and shadows with no sense. I awake to find myself lying alone in my bed. I can roll over and go back to sleep, to find a better dream, but I know the truth. Come morning I'll wake up unfazed.
"Where's my toothbrush?"
I remember what we were. I see the things that work and the things that didn't. But mostly I shake my head. I wonder what she's doing now, but not in a creepy "Cant take no" kind of way. Just more like "huh…" Sort of like checking up on some TV show you haven't watched for a few seasons, just to see what's going on.
"Hey, I didn't know he'd been eaten by a bear…"
Still, I'm here, I care. I'd hate to think she'd been eaten by a bear. No, really! I swear! At my worst, trampled by stampeding ants, maybe. It is kinda weird though. Being with somebody for ten years. Having them in your thoughts and even when you're at your most confident in your relationship, you still go back to think of them, because you can. Leaving that and coming to this point here, where I shrug when somebody says "How's MyUnwife?" is an odd sidestep. If you told me two years ago that I'd be in a place like this, I'd have told you that you were dreaming.
Nevermind the looming monster, have you seen my toothbrush?
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