Old Flame

            Thomas opened the musty, old cabinet that sat behind his bedroom door and immediately sneezed. It was a full body sneeze, bringing his chest against his thighs. The cabinet doors swung outwards, revealing the visibly coated books, bags, and bins he couldn’t remember the last time he looked at.

His parents had sold the house during his semester abroad. All of their things had already been transported to Ohio, their carpets being pulled up so that the new couple moving in could get rid of everything Thomas found familiar. The realtor told him he had only the weekend to clean out his room before the new owners wanted to move in.

Laying atop the first stack of books was an opened envelope, still crisp, stuffed with thick papers. Thomas lifted the parcel and wiped it down, knowing immediately what it was. He turned the envelope back over, slipping out the first folded piece of paper, unlined but covered, every inch, in words. Dearest Thomas, they all began that way, the middle parts never mattered. They were like journal entries, dictating events that didn’t matter anymore, events he hadn’t even thought about in as long as he could remember, but they all ended with: All of my love, Sabrina.

Thomas picked up his phone and scrolled down to the S section. Her number was still there. He hit call and it began to ring.

“Thomas, is that you?”

“Sort of.”

“What are you calling about?”

“I forgot what you sounded like.”