Now, I sit here, trying not to let it bother me that she’s been in our bed. She’s slept on my pillows. Her hands have been scratching behind the ears of our dog. You’ve undoubtedly been taking her to all my old favorite restaurants. I know in a few weeks you’ll be sending her the same flowers you used to send me, and you’ve already introduced her to your parents, and I’m sure they like her better than me. She’s probably much more suitable in their eyes. I wonder at how easily you were able to lure her in not even three weeks after things had been broken off. I know that I shouldn’t let it bother me, be the bigger person and all, but deep down it does.
I hope that every time you look at her, you see my blue eyes full of tears as they often were, looking back at you. I hope that every night when you go to sleep, you see my long brown hair on the pillow next to you. I hope that every time you come home to our dog you remember who it was that found her for you, and loved her more than you ever could. I hope that you are haunted by my memory every day for the rest of your life, and I hope that you live forever …
