In a chill, healed, “it’s funny” sort-of way, I can’t stop stalking my ex-best friend’s tweets.

Sometimes, she tweets in rapid succession, and I start responding in my head like we’re having a conversation again. Like she never sent me That Text. And today, when she tweets about love and forgiveness, I think, Yeah, I agree. I also think: I taught you that? Citation? Though I quickly move on because my stomach churns. Because fuck, why not love me then? So, I ask the account again like a magic eight ball, and she retweets some meme about astrology. I roll my eyes because it’s so annoying, that it’s hilarious. This is why we can’t be friends.

But then I start scrolling all the way back over every tweet, pleading for forgiveness. What would I do if she texted me right now? No reply, obviously. I have a notes app entry; a failsafe that responds brutally to any reason she could reach out. On second thought, it’s a bit of a fantasy. I’d fold. No, no. I wouldn’t.

New tweet.

Refresh.

We like the same show. Of course we do. We should be texting about HOW INSANELY GOOD it is in ALL CAPS. But I’m blocked and stalking her on my burner account. She’ll always be the first person I saw after my mom died, and I have a husband. How can you not talk to someone but spend so much time worrying about them? That same day, she goes private. I wonder if she heard my thoughts again. There’s nothing to do once you’re locked out.

So, I open a new tab. Log onto Etsy. Add a sweater that reads “unreliable narrator” to cart. We always liked those. Somewhere, outside of time, she texts me again and says: I meant it, you know. You’re still the older sister I never had <3. I respond: I know bb. Love you forever x