I was 16 I bet, when we shared that bowl of microwave popcorn, sitting on your bed. Remember how we thought it was so cool that we always went for the same piece of popcorn.

Such connection.

You took the microwave popcorn bowl when you left.
I mean I let you take it – handed it over. Even though it was actually mine, given to me by my friend.

Funny how I don’t care much that you took the expensive couch my parents gave us — but that turquoise microwave popcorn bowl – I regret agreeing to let you take that.

I don’t think you know it . . . but somehow our grocery discount card is still connected and I saw you bought popcorn oil.

I could tell your brother was visiting from the frozen pizza on my recently purchased list. There was also chicken. The grocery store AI must be confused by my vegan shopping history being destroyed.

I don’t know if it is really my grocery account or yours, but until the other day it was connected to your phone number. (Not anymore. That’ll teach you.)

I used the points today for a gas discount – filled the mini van and drove it back to my empty home. I must not be healed yet, because I hope that ruins your day somehow.

The condoms and lube have been removed from the recent purchase list, so maybe you do know I can see your purchases.

For some ridiculous reason, I’m not ready to tell you to get your own damn grocery discount card.

Healing comes in such small steps forward and back.