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The Missed Opportunities of Days Gone By

“Hello?” I said into the phone, accepting the call from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hey,” the feminine voice on the other replied, as though I should know the sound of her voice.

At a loss, I said, “Can I help you?”

“It’s Brooke.”

Her name stopped me. It couldn’t possibly be her. We hadn’t spoken in years, a decade perhaps. “Brooke?”

“Yeah, Brooke Baker. This is Mark, right?”

Jesus Christ. It was her. “Yeah, it is Mark. Brooke. Wow. How are you? It’s been a long time since… well… since anything.”

“I know.”

“So, how are you doing?”

“Okay, I suppose…” Her voice belied her words, though. Something was up. “I… It’s just been so long and I guess I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I don’t think I had a number for you. Ever. I offered a couple of times, but…”

“I was a brat back then.”

And that’s how a random phone call turned into a two-and-a-half hour catch-up session. We spoke of everything under the sun: people we still knew, how different we were, how the same we were, how everything had changed. We both admitted to each other a long lost desire for one another, a fire that had burned out. It was a heat that was long past.

We spoke of our relationships, where we were now, both married, neither with children, myself divorced.

The conversation ended abruptly in a way that was beyond my comprehension. “Damn it,” she said. “Chris is here. I’ve got to go.”

“Chris?”

“My husband.”

And without so much as a customary goodbye, the line went dead.


The rest of this story is available in the collection "Cupid Painted Blind" available on Amazon for the Kindle.






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