Hey Christie. It’s me. It’s Ox.

I’m sorry to call like this. I know we agreed that you would live your life and I would live my life. I’m probably making a huge mistake, but I just… I had to call.

Look, I saw you with Trent at Buffalo Wild Wings on Saturday. I don’t think you saw me. Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m so upset about. I could tell it wasn’t a date – I mean, clearly you were there with a big group of people. You were just watching the game.

But still, I can’t help feeling there was something going on. Just seeing you next to each other in the context of the group, I got the impression there was a stronger connection between the two of you.

Okay – maybe that’s unfair. Probably it is. But at the very least the relationship between the two of you, from what I could see when you were amongst that collection of people on Saturday, could be called “ambiguous.” Were you each there alone? Were you there together? In apposition? Damned if I could tell. All I know is that it hurt.

A fucking conjunction, Christie. Is that so much for me to ask of you? We were together for nearly a year and you can’t even afford me the decency of a goddamn conjunction to let me know where you stand?

Anyway. It’s late. You can probably tell I’ve been drinking. I know you don’t have room for me in your life anymore – nobody does, character limits being what they are. So I’m saying this more for your sake than mine: sometimes it’s helpful to clarify how you relate to the people around you.

I guess… I guess I thought maybe you had learned that from when we were together. Maybe I was wrong.

See you around.

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