The phone’s sound startled me.

Not because it was loud—
But because it was you.

Your name appeared
like a headline I thought I’d already read.

For a second
I convinced myself it had to be wrong.
A glitch.
An old memory resurfacing.

But then you said, “Hello.”

And my body paused.

Not panic.
Not longing.

Just pause.

Like a chapter I thought was archived
Suddenly reopened.

I placed the phone face down on the bed
and stared at the ceiling.

Is this real?

Not because I wanted it to be.

Not because I feared it was.

Just because I hadn’t prepared
for history to echo.

Ghosts aren’t supposed to call back.

Ghosts stay where you leave them.

But there you were—
alive,
casual,
unbothered by time.

And I wasn’t angry.

I wasn’t hurt.

I was simply surprised
that something I once survived
could still make my heart
stop
for a second.

Not because I wanted you back.

But because I forgot
I used to care.

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