Seven versions of you walk into a bar, all pretending not to look for him. You drink what you always drink. You say what you always say.
Someone touches your arm. Someone who isn’t him, and you let them. Maybe touch will overwrite memory. You flirt like forgetting is a skill. Like kissing someone new might erase the way he used to look at you. One version of you laughs too loud, one vanishes into the bathroom, and another keeps checking the door. You drink what you always drink.
You leave with someone who isn’t him. Someone who doesn’t even resemble him. You close your eyes and imagine a different name. You say what you always say. You claim you’re fine, but you kiss like it’s a chore.
You wake up empty in a body that isn’t yours. You lie on your back and miss him. You say what you always say, but all seven of you miss him the same.
Scott Kenimond is a second year graduate student of the NEOMFA at The University of Akron. He writes poetry, creative nonfiction, flash and micro fiction, and even dabbles in photography. Scott aims to graduate in the spring of 2027 and hopes to become an English professor at The University of Akron. He believes one day he will be as big as his idol Madonna, if not already. His favorite historical feud is between the legendary Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, because what’s life without a little drama?
