Member-only story
A Letter to a Fallen Friend
I fell in love with him again because of you. It’s so hard to believe that we are both the same to him now. We are now memories of his past, tucked into tiny boxes of his brain and forgotten for everything other than being a brief chapter in a story. I, for one, will never forget the fleeting butterflies that existed for a moment in time because of you.
When you first came into my life, I disliked you. The dent in your side, your hatchback closure, your uncomfortably tiny backseat. Above everything else, your ostentatious color left little to be hidden, cruising along in such small cities. You weren’t new or young, but you moved, and he loved you.
I apologize now for my former reactions to you. By the end of you, I would have done almost anything I could to save you.
I think, in a way, I was more so trying to save him and I. You were just the prize marker in place of that. I couldn’t save you, just like I couldn’t save him and I. We weren’t anything more than a glimpse in time, a fraction of a moment in this life. We served our purpose until we broke down, just like the driver’s side door to you.
You weren’t just a replacement when the old black Saturn was injured beyond repair in the accident. Instead, for the years we had you, you were my home.
