An Email

There is an email in my inbox. Of course there is, where else does one locate emails.

The subject, re: 94, clearly spam. I won't open it, but I can't delete it.

It falsely says it is from Jess, a blatant lie, she didn't send it. I know this, but I can't delete it.

It seems like a strange thing to hold on to, something not even real, not a memento but something that only perpetuates a tiny thought, a whisper really. "Maybe it didn't happen."

I find myself thinking of her at odd moments, watching a movie that shows someone like her, a makeup commercial and remembering the only reason I own eye shadow is because of her, and even though it has been years and years what I bought with her is still what I buy even though I never wear it.

It hasn't even been a year and yet it feels like eternity, a loss of what we used to share, secrets, memories, a future. One of us still gets one, but it will always be lacking in some way. I will not say what happened to you, it doesn't matter, not here.

Schrodinger's cat in a convoluted sense, by not opening the email I cannot definitively say that it is spam. It is currently in limbo of being real and fake.

There is an email in my inbox, that I cannot delete and will not open.