And there we were, just standing, looking at each other... he and I. But it was there, too... our past was there standing right in between us. I felt like another person was in the room, looming and breathing loudly, just watching and laughing at us. Pitying us for our unfortunate run in. If I could've, I'd have asked our unwelcome, 3rd wheel to leave so it would just be the two of us... because at least that way we wouldn't have an audience throwing imaginary tomatoes on our stage, sneering at us and critiquing our incredibly horrible acting as we pretend like its good to see one another. But that'd be impossible. You can't un-write memories. They feel like they'll never leave, like a house guest you wish would stop using your shampoo and just disappear.
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