One text. One name she never expected to see again. And a past that refuses to stay buried.
Prompt
Ann Bronsan stared at the message on her phone as if it were ticking.
Lunch? Would love to catch up.
Matt Jenkins.
Three years of shared mornings, shared dreams, shared assumptions—all of it collapsed over breakfast the day he announced he was leaving for the coast. No discussion. No warning. Just coffee, toast, and goodbye.
“Good luck. Hope things work out for you. Adios.”
That was it.
Now Ann was married. Stable. Settled. Or so she told herself.
She wondered how Matt looked now. Older? Softer? Regretful?
She hated him. And still—damn it—felt that pull.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Some doors don’t knock before reopening.
Some just wait for you to answer.
Writer’s Question
If you were Ann, would you reply—and if so, what would you say first?