Does He Think About Me?

Does he think about me? I asked this while peeling an orange at midnight. The peel came off in one long strip, which felt like a skill I had no use for.

Six of Cups said memory, but memory is not devotion. I remember the dentist I hated in 2009. That does not mean we have a soul contract.

Page of Swords made me think he might check. Maybe a profile, a photo, a mutual friend's post. Small surveillance. The kind people call casual when they do it and pathetic when they are caught.

The Hermit suggested private thought. No performance, no message, no proof. I disliked that. I wanted thought with receipts.

Nine of Swords made me wonder whether I wanted him to think of me sweetly or suffer properly. Not my finest hour. I wrote it anyway.

At 12:34 I found a playlist he made and immediately regretted opening it. The third song was one we played while cooking. I had to sit down on the floor like a person in a very low-budget music video.

Maybe he thinks about me. Maybe often. Maybe only when a certain street appears or when he cannot sleep. That still does not tell me whether he can love with both hands open.

I ate half the orange. The other half stayed on the plate, drying at the edges.