The Ex Vows

by Jessica Joyce

I tend to be a mirror anyway; whatever time someone has to give me is what I give back in an attempt to be unobtrusive.

It’s a gift to know someone when you’re in love with them, and a curse when you’re out of it.

“I remember,” he says, eyes on me. The most dangerous phrase when it comes to us.

Maybe it’s just like going back to visit a home that isn’t yours anymore. Maybe you don’t have the key, but someone lets you in anyway, and you stay awhile, and it feels so good just to be somewhere you once belonged.

Eli can’t see my heart, and it’s for the better because he’d see his name everywhere in it. But it’s for the worse because he doesn’t see that his name is everywhere in it, and that hurts him.

Time is a miracle. It shows you what you had, and sometimes it brings it back to you. Different. Better.

Sometimes happiness is loud and messy.

For a girl who struggled so mightily to know the shape and feeling of home, it’s a revelation to have so many places—and people—to call it.