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“I didn’t call because I didn’t know I said I would,” I spoke as honestly as I could. “Did I tell you I would?”

I didn’t say much of anything, you told me. I drank what was left of the Jim Beam upon rising that morning. I lit us both a cigarette as I tracked down my bra and underwear. I jammed my underwear and socks into my purse, put on my bra, pulled on your Bauhaus t-shirt, found my coat in the pile on the floor at the bottom of the bed, stole two more cigarettes from your pack, and your lighter, kissed you on the forehead, “booped” your nose with my index finger and walked out with three things that belonged to you and no promises.

I had (and have) no memory of this but it certainly explained where I got the great Bauhaus t-shirt and where that lighter I didn’t recognize came from and I moved to find my coat in the pile to at least give you your lighter back because I was sure it was in my pocket or purse and indeed it was. My gesture of goodwill was lost on you. This was not the first time I had seen that look of disappointment when I tried to apologize without saying the words “I”, “am” or “sorry”.

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