Coffee with misery

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

I had a coffee with Misery.
She said, “It’s just us?”
She hates when I come alone, but there’s too much distance between me and you.
Grief came over for lunch.
We drank all our tears and ate all the memories we were saving for later, both of us scared there may not be a tomorrow—
Loss teaches you that.
Shame still follows me around.
She’s a bit desperate like that. I don’t pay her attention, and I think she resents me for it—
we spent so much time together in my youth.
She even followed me to work.
I know because she left a note on my window, recounting the time I almost ruined my life.
She’s heartless.
She lurks, utterly alone.
I think she’s a lot like Misery—longing for company.
But, I miss you.
Our days were few and far between.
Sometimes I’m not even sure I held you,
or if it was all a daydream
from a boy I used to be.
The echoes of love ripple across time.
I knew her, once.
Love…
I still wonder if she ever knew me.
Sorry—
suddenly the rest of them are at my door.
I need to leave before they realize I’ve left, but…
…I just really miss her
and I’m trying to be better
but I’m ashamed of how I left things,
and I’ll never see her again,
I’m pathetic, and—
—I should go before they get in.