I removed the fedora from my head and fell down into the inviting pillow underneath me. I could sense it’s jealousy, sense it’s anger over the fact I had just thrown it aside. But I was tired, and my will to care was low.
I regret that day. I regret it because sometime during this sleep fedora disappeared, and I haven’t seen him sense.
I couldn’t believe he’d just leave me there–abandoned, like I meant nothing. I remembered all of the days we’d spent together, one singular entity–me and him, him and me. But, as I watched him sigh and roll to his side, as though my presence meant nothing to him, I knew that I was a mere cast off.
How could he let go so easily? I would never understand. I loved him, desperately, I did, and sleeping with him was one of my favorite things in the world. Now, however, the bed we shared was cold.
I was worth more than this. I deserved more. It was time to move on.
So I wrote a goodbye note, and signed it–Au revoir, Josh. Good luck finding somebody else to keep your head warm. Sincerely, Marvin (your fedora).