Dear 1000 Clark,
I’m not good with breakups. But I wanted to see how you’re doing. Maybe, I don’t know, I just wanted to see if you’ve thought of us? I’ve thought a lot about you. I think I just … needed to say something … to pretend this isn’t really over.
I took the long way home yesterday, turning down Spruce to see how you’re holding up. Not sure if you saw me (I wasn’t crying), the sign (not important), or heard the horns (those cars were jerks). I drove off, letting the words I wanted to say disappear in the exhaust. Side note: I still need to get that emissions test.
I know I’m rambling. I’ll try to hold it together.
My friends thought you were the one. They told me every time they saw us together. You were a beautiful, modern throwback. We made memories. Happy hours, late nights, early mornings. The silent elevator rides with strangers from other floors, our glances darting between phones and buttons.
During the day you came alive, but at night you really shined. You were there when we needed you, there when we didn’t. I never said this before, but I also thought you were the one.
We’re at our new building now, and we can even see you from our new space. We’ve unpacked boxes; maybe soon it’ll feel like home as we make new memories. We’re happy, really. Maybe this was for the best. You’ve come so far since we first met you—I don’t think you know how great you are. We had to grow up, and you needed someone new.
I’ve found myself looking toward you often. I hope that someday, when you’re ready, we can at least be friends again.
I ? you,
P.S. Can you check and see if we left any beer? If so, please forward to 200 North Broadway, 12th floor.