London Looks Better on Me — Luke's Voice Message

Oops. Too tight. I'll make you another one after you lose some weight. So it stayed in that box for eight years.

There were photos, too. Pictures of the three of us. I was always on the edge, unconsciously turning my body sideways ways, because I was afraid I took up too much space. And somehow, I was always the one

the hardest. I put the metal box on the highest shelf of my closet, somewhere I couldn't easily reach. I didn't take it with me, but I didn't throw it away either. At eleven that night, Luke called again. I didn't answer. He sent six messages. I didn't read them. The seventh was a voice message. I accidentally tapped it, and his voice filled the room.

Sarah, you've hung up on me six times. Are you trying to start a fight? If you have something to say, say it. Don't give me this silent treatment crap. Silent treatment. I gave a bitter turned off my phone. Then I slept better than I had in a long time. The next day was my last day before leaving. I went to the office to finish the paperwork for my resignation. My desk had

already been cleared. There was a sticky note on my monitor from the co-worker who sat beside me. Good luck, Sarah. I peeled it off, tucked it into my pocket, and went to HR for the final signatures. When I stepped out of the elevator, I ran into Luke. He stood in the perfectly tailored suit, one hand in his pocket. The expression on his face was