Joe wiped sweat from his forehead, surveying the chaos of his apartment. Spring cleaning was must at this point with some cabinet drawers that hadn’t been opened for years. He tossed another pile of outdated receipts into the trash when something caught his eye—a yellow crumpled piece of paper with faded blue ink.
He smoothed it out, squinting his eyes at the handwriting. "Bambi" followed by seven digits. The memories of Bambi my home girl from the neighborhood with the beautiful smile and quiet confidence. They were inseparable for years—drinking buddies, and her needing a shoulder to cry on. Everyone in their neighborhood and a few family members had assumed they'd end up together, even them sometimes. With those late-night conversations talking around what they really meant.
But life pulled them apart. Different parts of the city, different careers. Promises to stay in touch had slowly evaporated like boiling water.
"Ten years," Joe mumbled, slumping into his armchair, paper still in hand. "No way this still works."
He pulled out his phone, pressing the numbers before having second thoughts.
"Is this Ms. Bambi?" he texted, feeling a little awkward.
He tossed the phone aside, returning to sorting through a box of old CDs. Ten minutes later, his phone made a new message alert.
"Yes, this is Ms. Bambi."
Joe froze, staring at the screen. Before he could send back a response, another text appeared.
"Is this Joe?"
His heart hammered against his chest. She remembered. The number hadn't changed, and neither had her memory of him.
"Yes ma'am, this is Joe. How are you?" he texted back, suddenly aware of how formal he sounded.
"In a meeting that should've ended an hour ago. Much better now. Where the hell have you been for 10 years?" Bambi texted back.
Joe laughed, loud in his apartment. Same old Bambi.
"I’m going temporary insanity. Right now spring cleaning dust got to my brain."I
Cleaning my apartment like a responsible adult and your number on a piece of paper from the dinosaur era." Joe texted.
"And you just decided to text? Bold move."
“Yeah, I didn’t know if you were married or inna relationship.” Joe replied.
They continued like that, messages flying back and forth while Bambi snuck texts under the conference table. Joe learned she'd never married, and lived less than an hour away. She heard that he'd started his own business, and had a disaster of a relationship that ended maybe year ago, and still couldn't cook worth a damn.
"Why didn't we ever give it a shot, Joe?" Bambi responded. The question appeared suddenly, stopping his breath.
"Back then I was an idiot," he replied after a long pause. "Thought we were going in that direction."
"We were both idiots. I was scared of ruining what we had." Bambi texted.
Joe sat in his chair with the scattered memories of his past, holding the future in his hand. "I'm not that same guy back in day.
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
"I get off work at 5. Coffee shop on your block. I wonder if they still make those ridiculous caramel things I loved?" Bambi replied.
Joe smiled. "Some things never change."
"Let's find out which ones."