Old face emerges.

I sent a draft of a man’s chapter of my work in progress to them back in December. A draft of how I felt I needed to express my feelings after our break up.

Well. Today, he read the chapter. I had deleted his number. Email. Everything.

Apparently. He reached out in January but I thought it was a wrong number. It was a vague text. I was witty and brushed it off. He thought I was being coy. I had no idea who it was until he gave me his number again and the conversation popped up.

He liked what I had written. Was flattered. We texted for hours like we used to.

It all just flowed. The humor. The fun.

But also the unsteady. He said he thought about coming over. That’s his way. He just doesn’t always follow through. After hours of conversation.

He never came over. After he opened the subject.

First it was the Uber ride over. Then it was he needed to get prepared for work on Monday. Then it was he just didn’t want to leave the house.

Hours later. He told me he was going to the club.

He baffles me.

I don’t know that this is going to be a redo or a rerun. I don’t know that I can take it.

But I don’t trust myself. My heart is still tender.