By Morgan Hannah, Life & Style Editor
I decided to take the plunge. I moved. Three days ago. Had to wait until the last box was unpacked, making it feel more real before I let you know. I can just imagine you sitting there, your mustard yellow checkered shirt blending into that old office chair as you push those awful wire-framed glasses up your nose. We’re no longer cul-de-sac buddies, nor bio-lab partners… And please believe me when I say I tried to make it difficult for them, I really did, but the offer was just too good. Every time Wendy called me it seemed as if the air was made out of bird songs out there!
I popped over to the island for a weekend trip before the move and instantly melted; there was no way a life like this one would ever be possible for me on the mainland. And sure, I know there will be sacrifices—no more sushi, rock climbing, or sitting beside you on the bus—our knees knocking together with the stop and go of transit. But in the long run, I feel that this is the best move. After all, it’s not like you were ever going to not be with Valerie. So please don’t be too mad at me that I caved.
Now that I’ve put hours of travel between the two of us, I finally feel like I have it in me to tell you how I really feel. The truth, Reed, is that I needed this move to finally get over you. Because waking up early enough to catch the same bus as you in the mornings just so I’d have that whole hour of you and hot chamomile tea all to myself got to be too much. The way you’d steam up your glasses and grin at me before using the edge of your jacket to clear them. Yeah, your glasses are awfully unsuited for you, Reed, but behind them are delightful, expressive butterscotch eyes.
Good luck with the lab tomorrow, I’m sorry I won’t be there this time.