Ghost Ex

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Today I saw the ghost of my ex. He wasn’t a transparent-white silhouette like most ghosts. And also, he’s not dead yet. But a haunting image? I’d say so. He was wearing high tops that overlapped the bottom hem of his jeans and a trucker hat (the kind that Ashton Kutcher made known on Punk’d so many years ago). My ghost ex was sitting on a fixie bike waiting for the light to turn green as I was stopped by the electronic orange don’t-walk hand across the way. Where the curb bordered the road, I stood in a way a kid does at the exhibit window of a zoo.

 At this point in time, we were both waiting. Ghost ex opened his mouth for a sincerely wide yawn before shifting his glance to notice that I was staring at him. And we both gave each other the look that said, “I’m pretty sure I know you, I’ve known a lot about you, but I rather not bring it up, especially here where this light is about to turn green, and once it does, i will never see you ever again, maybe.”

 In a second, he was off with the other pedalling commuters and cars and cabs and fleeting memories. I wondered why he reappeared in my life. Was he punking me, Ashton Kutcher-style? I’ll never be sure, just I am with everything. I was 90% sure ghost ex was my ex and only 10% sure that he was a ghost. 50% sure that I’m finished with him.

Created: Mar 22, 2012

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