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Imaginary

By @ColorfulAlpaca

I remember that day, so clearly. The day she started moving on. Four years ago. When she was eight. She came home with a friend. Her friend’s name, I soon learned is Eliana. But she never introduced me. Was she embarrassed to be friends with me? Or was she forgetting? Already. After Eliana left, however, she apologized. “I’m sorry, I just thought she’d tease me. Really,” she had said. “I’m sorry.” And of course I forgave her, but what happens when it happens again? Am I still there to her? I must be, I’m still here. Conscious. But for how long? And now, there she is. The twelve year old girl, standing in front of me. “I know you’re there,” Nora said. “I know you exist. But I don’t talk about you. My friends. Would tease me, you know. Also, you’re imaginary. Thanks for being there when I needed you. But now I have other friends who exist to everyone. Who weren’t created by a little version of me.” I stared at her blankly. “Sorry,” She continues, “but you’d be teased by my friends, so I don’t talk about you.” It’s now, I realize, she’s not talking to me.

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