This, above all, was where the root of my neediness towards ex bae lay: when the mania of consecutive all-nighters ran its course, and suddenly I felt like a crazy person, and direly needed someone to tell me I wasn’t a crazy person.

To tell me I was on the right path.

To console me.

So, on this particular day, midsummer a summer ago, I waited, waited, waited. For as long as possible.

Till it wasn’t totally psycho/stalker-y for me to pull up.

Like 8:30 a.m.

Almost turned back like three times.

Walked up the front steps I knew so well, that we’d kicked it on all night while on drugs, that we’d fought on once the drugs wore off, before actually turning back a fourth time.

Like Yooo what am I DOing.

Like I’m fkng WILDING yo.

I need to settle tf down—this some stalker behavior!

I’m actually Chris Brown!

Flipped a hard U, bounded down the steps, and started booking it south.

But this led me past the side entrance gate, past the side/back patio area separated from the street by a hedge-covered fence.

Probably a paranoiac, sleep-deprivation-induced theory, but I swear to god Winnie smelled/sensed me, bc she came scampering down the side steps, to the side gate.

Poked her head through the bars like a prisoner.

Looked at me longingly, like…Dad?

Like I miss u daddy!

Like Why’d u leave me poppa!

I involuntarily went Ooooof! Win-win! kneeling and going eye-level with her.

Before our reunion was interrupted by a jarringly unfamiliar singsong voice.

“Win-nie, don’t go over there, come ba—”

We were face-to-face.

Locked eyes.

I stood.

We scrutinized each other.

She looked so plain.

Not like how I expected somehow; although also exactly like I expected.

“You’re Z,” I said.

She nodded.

“And you’re…?” she said.

But she knew.

She fkng knew, bro.

Immediately.

The tension was palpable.

I smirked.

“Who am I?” I said, sneering.

“Sean,” I said.

“I am Sean,” I said.

Then everything went hilarious.

I laughed.

I was filled with warmth, and went nice.

Winnie did a weird, gallop-y 180 and jetted under a hedge, before spastically one-eightying again and jetting back.

“This is Winnie,” Z said. “We’ve been letting her out some, but she’s used to staying inside.”

All that niceness went poof. A chill of hatred ran through me.

I stared at her, incredulous, trying to figure out if she was serious.

To see if she was fucking with me.

Omg.

Bro—she was serious.

THIS. FKNG. CUNT, went through my brain in all caps.

Bitch do you know who tf I am??

Were you there when Winnie was so small she fit in the palm of your hand, like a goddamn beanie baby?!