anniversary of an uninteresting event
Andrea hadn’t thought about Michael in years.
That was the version of the truth she lived with, anyway.
The morning unfolded gently, without ceremony. She woke before her alarm, the pale light slipping through her curtains and settling on the ceiling above her bed. For a while, she stayed still, listening to the quiet hum of the house. No footsteps. No voices. Just the familiar stillness of being alone.
She rolled onto her side and reached for her phone, not expecting anything. There were no missed texts, no notifications worth noting. It should have felt comforting.
Instead, a thought surfaced, uninvited and sudden.
Michael.
It wasn’t a memory. It was worse than that. It was the feeling of him. The weight he used to carry in her life, the way her name sounded when he said it, the version of herself she was only ever brave enough to be with him.
Andrea frowned and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face.
Don’t, she told herself. It’s too early for this.
She went about her morning on autopilot, shower, coffee, toast she barely touched. She tried to focus on the small things: the steam fogging up the bathroom mirror, the quiet clink of her mug against the counter. Anything that kept her anchored in the present.
Still, the thought lingered. Not loud. Just there.
By the afternoon, she’d almost convinced herself it meant nothing.
She was in the kitchen when her phone buzzed on the counter. The sound startled her, sharp in the quiet room. She ignored it at first, busying herself with pouring a glass of water. Then it buzzed again.
Andrea glanced down.
Her breath caught.
Michael: hey
Her heart reacted instantly, painfully. It felt like something had been knocked loose inside her chest, sending heat rushing through her veins. Three letters. No punctuation. No explanation. As if he hadn’t disappeared from her life without a word.
She stared at the screen, waiting for another text to follow. It didn’t.
Why now? she wondered. Why today?
Her fingers hovered over the screen before she pulled her hand back. She set the phone down like it might burn her, pacing the length of the kitchen instead. Her thoughts raced ahead of her, spiraling into questions she didn’t have answers to.
She didn’t text back.
She called Corinne.
“Please tell me you’re not busy,” Andrea said the moment her best friend answered.
“Depends,” Corinne replied. “Are you about to emotionally self-destruct?”
Andrea swallowed. “Michael texted me.”
There was a pause on the line, heavy and deliberate. “Texted you what?”
“Just… ‘hey.’”
Andrea sank into a chair, pressing her free hand to her forehead. “I feel stupid for reacting like this. It’s nothing. It shouldn’t matter.”
“But it does,” Corinne said, softer now. “Because it’s him.”
Andrea closed her eyes. Corinne always knew. “I don’t know what he wants.”
“You don’t have to figure that out today,” Corinne said. “And you definitely don’t have to answer right away.”
They talked for a while, about nothing and everything, until Andrea’s breathing slowed and the knot in her chest loosened just enough to be manageable.
By nightfall, the house was quiet again. Andrea lay in bed, phone resting on her stomach, Michael’s name still unread at the top of the screen.
She finally typed back.
Andrea: hey
She stared at it for a full minute before hitting send.
The reply didn’t come immediately. She told herself she didn’t care. She was wrong.
Michael: didn’t think you’d answer
Her chest tightened.
Andrea: took me a minute
Michael: fair
That was it. No grand gesture. No apologies. Just the careful exchange of two people pretending not to feel too much.
They talked about small things, classes, mutual friends, the weather. Andrea kept her responses measured, deliberate. She didn’t ask the questions she wanted to ask. She didn’t say the things she still carried.
But the conversation didn’t end.
It stretched. Picked up again the next day. Then the day after that.
Just enough to keep something alive.
Andrea set her phone down late that night, staring at the ceiling, a strange mix of excitement and dread settling in her chest.
Michael was back in her orbit.
And from the way her heart refused to calm down, she knew one thing for certain,
Nothing about him had ever been simple.
