Flint

His voice sounds different on the line when he talks about her. It's been nearly nine months since he's seen her or heard her voice. We talk about photographs and how strange it is to see the two dimensional face of someone you've loved more than life itself and to think I don't know this person. How it all seems like just a dream.

"Breaking up with me was the best thing she could have ever done for me," he said and I believe him but it makes me sad how people change; how a voice becomes flinty and hollow when the soul has been splintered by love. I know this because I hear it in my own flinty voice, see it in my own hollow eyes. We always say it's for the best but I wonder if it ever is.

I wonder.