Just the thought made my fist tighten around the doorknob as I shut the door, and then I sank down into the couch, hating that it still smelled like her, that her long hairs were still in the sink because I couldn’t wash them away, that her hair tie was still around my wrist from when I’d pulled it out of her hair while fucking her against the wall. She was everywhere, inking herself into my skin like a tattoo. And maybe that was the hardest truth to face. Even if I did run, I’d never be able to run far enough to forget her.
