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Writer's pictureClint Haugen

The Bookmark

“What’s making you sad?”

She asked me.


“It’s not really sadness.

It’s more like a disconnect.

From everyone

and

Normal things”


“I don’t make it more difficult to sleep when I’m next to you,

do I?”

She was propped up on one elbow, staring at me.


I was staring up at the ceiling, into nothingness.

“It’s got it’s pros and cons.

Like everything” I said.


“You know that disconnect you’re talking about?

I’ve felt it everyday for the last six months.

I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me? “


I rolled over and looked at her.

“Nothing is wrong with you doll.”

I pushed her bangs back behind her ear.

“It’s everything else that’s a little wrong.”


I kissed her on the forehead and went to sleep.


When I woke up,

she was gone.

But,

She left a note,


“Going to try to reconnect.

I’ll miss you Chester.

Call or text anytime.

Don’t drink too much while I’m gone.

I’ll know if you do.”

There was a red lipstick imprint at the bottom.


I grabbed my book

And took out the bookmark.

I tossed it in the trash.

I nicely folded up her note.

And replaced it as my bookmark.


I grabbed some orange juice from the fridge.

Picked up a bottle of vodka

And made a drink.


I sat down with my drink

And wondered if I’d ever see her again.






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