I have eight missed calls from My Love when I grab my phone off my nightstand the next morning. Ten a.m. and I’m still in bed. On weekends the sun usually wakes me up, but it’s not out today. On the other side of my glass sliding door, dark clouds creep across the sky.

I tap My Love on my phone and change it back to Carli. Then I scroll down to the bottom of her contact page and press Block This Caller. I know I need to apologize, but I’m not ready to talk to her yet.

Outside, the pines are bending to the wind. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and slide my boxer briefs on—ready to step outside and take in the smell of the coming storm, ready to feel its force against my bare skin—when I notice an envelope in the middle of my floor.

My father must’ve slid it underneath my door this morning. Wait, that means my father must’ve come upstairs. I’ve never seen him upstairs. Maybe he even knocked on my door when I was asleep. Maybe it’s a letter from him saying all the things that still need to be said.

I wipe the crust out of the corners of my eyes and go pick it up. It’s light purple. Not exactly my father’s style. Plus, it has a stamp in the upper right-hand corner. Typed underneath a strip of teal tissue paper in the upper left-hand corner, it reads Carli Alexander.

I think about tossing the envelope outside and letting the rain wash her words away, so I’ll never be able to take them in. But I don’t. Instead, I sit down with the envelope in the middle of my cold wooden floor and bring it to my nose—exactly the thing I shouldn’t do. But it smells like her, and I can’t help but to breathe it in deep.

Doesn’t mean anything. After I apologize, I’m still done with Carli.

Each line of her return address, of my address, is typed underneath alternating strips of lime-green and teal tissue paper, which are all pasted on the envelope separately. She probably spent over an hour on the envelope alone. The least I can do is open it and see what’s inside. It’s not like it’s going to change anything.

I poke my pinky finger in the corner of the backside of the envelope, slide it underneath the triangular flap, and lift it up. First thing I see is our faces in front of a big, swirly sun. I quickly close the flap and push the envelope away from me, back underneath the door. I’ve already seen too much.

CARLI