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"Yeah, I'm here."
"Okay, I'll see you then."
I hang up the phone before he has a chance to finish his thought.
My hands are shaking.
My chest is heavy.
The rest of me is numb. It's not like I can run from this. I broke Adam's heart. It's for the best, in the long run, but that doesn't change the facts at the moment.
I try to focus on getting to my car. On taking streets to the freeway. On the steady drive up the 405.
Nerves rise up in my stomach as I pull off the freeway, take the first left, the second right, the fourth left after that.
Adam's place is in Sherman Oaks. It was our place. For two years, I took these streets home every night. For two years, I lived in the apartment complex on the right.
Habit takes over as I park, walk to the gate, and tap the code into the electric lock. The door buzzes. I pull it open and step inside.
And there's the old courtyard. It's all concrete with a few potted cacti and a tiny, unkempt pool.
And there's Adam's place, our old place, right by the entrance.
Same red door.
Same gold number.
All this is familiar. It's only been two weeks since I was living in this apartment.
Two weeks doesn't sound like a long time.
But it's an eternity.
Everything is different now.
The fucking red door is enough to fill my stomach with pangs of nostalgia. I miss familiarity. I miss comfort. I miss Adam.
But he's never going to be…
I knock on the door.
"Hey."
That's his voice. His soft, familiar voice.
His soft, familiar footsteps.
My chest tenses.
My entire body tenses.
"It's me." I play with the straps of my messenger bag. Am I still a me? Or did I lose me status when I left him?
He pulls the door open.
And there's Adam, standing in the hallway of our apartment.
His apartment.
