Phone Call

I reach for the phone and start to dial before it hits me. The tears that have been building start to spill over slowly. I take a deep breath and walk to the closet, from deep within I dig out the black starter shorts that are filled with so many memories. I strip off the clothes I am wearing, after hugging the shorts close to me I think about washing them as I pull them on. Reaching back into the closet I come out with a shirt and pull it over my head. It still smells faintly like him even after all this time. The tears are coming in earnest now. I am encompassed by the only physical things I have left of the two of them. Crawling on my bed, closing my eyes I will the memories to come. The good ones, the ones that will take the pain and push it to the background. I cannot quite reach the compartment that those memories are locked away in. From two to three and then down to one; back to the closet. I take a deep breath and open the box to pull out the jacket that was given back to me. I put it to my face; it smells as if he just took it off. My arms are in the sleeves and I wrap it around me as I crumble to the floor. From one to none...there is no one to call, not to help me through this pain.