Caz must see the hurt all over my face, because he asks quietly, “Do you miss her?” I wrap my arms around my body. Exhale into the frigid air. “I miss a lot of people.” And this, I think, is my ultimate fatal flaw. Missing people who don’t miss me back. Clinging on to strands of string that shouldn’t mean half as much as they do. It takes so little for me to love someone, yet so long for me to move on.
