I was standing outside a pharmacy.
I don’t know why my brain has deemed that detail relevant to what happened next – but alas – I cannot reflect on the memory without seeing the sign for a slightly rundown suburban pharmacy.
It was also sticky. The way it only is in December or January. Sweat pooled at my lower back and settled across my hairline.
My phone rang and it was my boyfriend. Well – kind of. If someone had asked me at the time if I had a boyfriend, I’d have said yes. If someone had asked him if he had a girlfriend at the time, he’d likely have said no. He wasn’t sure if this was a relationship he wanted to be in anymore, but leaving it would have taken a level of courage and maturity he hadn’t yet found.
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We talked about nothing in particular, and I probably asked a question about how he felt.
“It’s just…” he said, pausing. “You’re like, a seven out of 10, I’d say.”
He paused again, as though to ensure his words were just right.
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