Get up in the morning and take a steaming hot shower. Cleanse away your dead skin cells until you are tomato red. Scrub at your hair and wash off all the ways he used to touch you. Wash away his fingers and his hands and his lips. Rinse. Lather. And repeat.
Some day, when the wind picks up and the leaves turn from a mint green to a rusty orange, you’re going to think of them. And one day, out of the blue, you’re going to walk to a place they used to go to and you’re going to wish you were holding their hand.