Twenty years. That’s how long it’s been since we broke up. You’ve had 3 girlfriends and a wife during that time. In fact, you’re still married. I’m married. To the wonderful man that chose me. You didn’t. But somehow, through every girlfriend, and even your wife, you feel the need to talk to me. Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t ever tell me you still love me again. Nothing will ever change with you. You and I are nothing. Especially after our last talk. You missed out on a good wife. Forget you know my name.