Where We Last Were Us

Quiet. Poetic. Told entirely in dialogue between two voices echoing through a shared past.

This is a story about what we keep, what we lose, and the places that remember us even when we don’t return.

-

HER:

Your name’s not on the mailbox anymore.

I stood there like it still should be.

The doorknob still sticks.

The walls didn’t know how to forget you either.

They looked at me like I was the stranger.

-

HIM:

You came back.

I didn’t think you would.

The key still works.

But it doesn’t sound like welcome anymore.

More like memory. Creaking.

-

HER:

The blue sweater’s gone.

The one that smelled like coffee and weekend mornings.

Did you take it?

Or did it finally stop waiting?

-

HIM:

It’s in the closet behind the boxes.

I told myself I’d donate it.

But I never did.

Like if I kept it,

something soft would still exist between us.

-

HER:

The fridge hums in E minor.

Still lonely.

Still loyal.

I checked the back,

your jar of olives was gone.

You hated olives.

But you never threw them out.

-

HIM:

I liked having one thing in there

that never needed me.

That never spoiled.

That stayed.

-

HER:

The plant on the balcony leans too far.

Like it’s trying to escape the glass.

I wonder if it remembers

when we danced barefoot

in the hallway

with spoons on our noses.

Just to make each other laugh.

-

HIM:

That was the last time I saw your full smile.

No shadow in it.

No weight.

-

HER:

You were the loud one.

But when you hurt,

you went silent.

You disappeared

without ever leaving.

-

HIM:

Frankie still runs to the window

when it rains.

He thinks you’re coming home.

-

HER:

I threw your mug once.

The one with the chipped lip.

I don’t know why.

I just needed something to break

that wasn’t me.

-

HIM:

I loved you here.

Even when I didn’t say it.

Especially then.

I thought you knew.

-

HER:

I almost told you I’d stay.

I almost begged.

But you looked tired

of holding me together.

-

HIM:

You were right to go.

I made the place too heavy.

I made love feel like

something you had to survive.

-

HER:

Do you ever think,

if I had turned around that day,

would you have stopped me?

-

HIM:

I would have.

I almost did.

But you were already too far

and I was already too late.

-

HER:

I saw your name

in a baby announcement last fall.

Not mine.

Not ours.

But still, it hit me

like the hallway light flicking on

at the wrong hour.

-

…

-

HER:

I found a grape stem on the balcony.

Dried.

Still shaped like a wishbone.

I almost made a wish,

but didn’t know who’d win.

-

HIM:

I can’t believe I remember how your voice sounded.

I thought forgetting would be harder than dying.

-

HER:

I left a letter in the wall.

Behind the light switch.

I don’t know if you ever found it.

It didn’t say much,

just “Don’t forget the way I held your hand

when you were scared.”

-

HIM:

If these walls still talk,

I hope they lie.

Tell the next couple

we were the kind of people who made it.

-

HER:

Tell them

we tried.

Tell them it wasn’t all my fault.

Tell them I never stopped waiting

to hear the lock turn.

-

HIM:

If someone else moves in,

don’t tell them everything.

Keep one memory

just for me.

-

HER:

You stopped loving me

before I stopped needing you.

-

HIM:

I know.

-

HER:

Do you remember what we used to say

before we locked the door?

-

HIM:

“Always leave the light on.”

-

HER (final whisper):

I still do.

Just not for you anymore.

-

[end]