Move on, they said.
Turn around and leave.
I wish I could. But here, there are ghosts. Here, I can see him sitting on the couch, one leg propped up over the other as he strums on his guitar. I can see Jenny standing outside on the balcony, talking to her Mom in Colorado. We are whispering to each other. I'm straightening his hair. We're creeping around the condo, dipping into crevices. We're waltzing on this damn carpet, his body so close to mine that I can feel his essence.
There are so many memories. There are so many instances....
How can I just move on?
How can he--the others, too--how can they all just toss me aside? How can he just give up our friendship as if it meant nothing? Does it mean nothing to him?
Did it, all this time?
Is the ghost that I'm seeing just that? ... a ghost? A ghost of who I wanted to see instead of who was really there?
