Sometimes a small, insignificant thing happens. And it makes you see everything so much clearer – the person, the past …
You get flashbacks of all the clues you’ve had over time. In front of your eyes. And you wonder, how come I didn’t see this before? Was I stupid?
No. You were just in your own story, believing a tale you created for yourself. For the comfort of your mind. For the peace.
You dwelled on it. You hung on to it as long as you could, pretending it was alive.
Until you couldn’t anymore because it was too dead; and it had already started to stink.