41- Lincoln

I hadn’t heard from Hannah in twenty-four hours. I’d sent her four texts and had finally called her late before I’d gone to bed, but the call had gone straight to voicemail.

I laid in bed that night, my mind working its way slowly through all the various reasons why Hannah had gone silent, and then throwing up evidence to support the idea that I hadn’t gotten it all wrong all over again. Even my mother thought there was something real between us.

Had the muppet appeared in his nice truck with his shiny hair and swept her off her feet so easily? Was everything we’d said to one another nothing more than words, easily spoken, easily forgotten? Had I somehow misinterpreted Hannah’s words or actions?

When daylight began to stretch across the sky, I was already up, sitting on the tiny balcony facing the parking lot outside my building, a cup of coffee in my hand and my mind dark. It was times like this when I really didn’t enjoy being myself. When my own mind felt alien to me, like it was w