Chloe. It's not her real name in case you've been trying to find her (I know that some of you tried LinkedIn, and yes, she is there but not among my connections). I've been afraid of losing her ever since she asked if we could be unhappy together. She told me about her father and I told her about mine.
She lets me
write about her because I promised to give away her deepest secrets some
day. It's a work in progress, I know she doesn't tell me everything but
filling in the blanks with my wildest fantasies is my favorite waste of
I remember asking her what she hated the most. "H&M,
hip-hop and Julia Roberts" she said, without even thinking, as if she
could read my mind. We were twelve, breathing each other's air in the
dark somewhere on Venice Beach. Her skin smelled like apples.