i left three missed phone call notifications on your phone, and i wondered how you would feel when you saw them. would you be annoyed? would you think of me as troublesome? childish? clingy? maybe i was. i kicked at the mound of dirt beneath the swing set. grains of sand crawled their way through the rip in my right shoe that creased and tore ever so slightly with every step i took. i didn't notice that my knuckles were turning a sick white from gripping at the metal chain, but when i let go, my hands smelled like sour rust and made me gag at the back of my tongue.

i was going to ask you to pick me up, and that maybe we'd go to that cheap diner right by state route 22 that you always liked. i thought you'd answer after the first three monotonous tones and ask me what was wrong. i imagined you rolling up to the sidewalk minutes later in your red sedan with the dent in the hood, the rearview window still covered in dust from last September, the streaky wash me i'm dirty still traced into all that grime. i remember etching those crooked words into the dirt with the tip of my calloused finger and watching the ashen particles rub off. when you saw it, you just laughed and said you would wash your car when you had the time, and i guess you never did.