The last time I saw her, she tried to punch me in the face.
In retrospect, I had it coming and shouldn't have ducked. It's no excuse for mistreating someone, but that was a tough time for me. I was in her bedroom when I got the call that my mother had died. My heart froze. For months, we had danced around making it "official" but became blurry-boundaried partners anyway. I couldn't commit, yet didn't know how to end it. Then I met someone else in another city. Wrong answer.
That was five years ago. One day, I hope to see her again to apologize. Or at the very least, let her land that punch.
_
Editor’s notes:
The submissions box is open and I’d *love* to see your story in there — anonymous as always, of course.
What would a Breakup Slam look like? Like, a story slam event, stage and all, but for 100-word breakup stories? Or maybe a two-year anniversary party for this newsletter? … Just brainstorming. Reply to this email if any ideas come to mind.
-jz