Chase Wright - Wish Youd Miss Me Direct

Chase looked up, a bittersweet smile tugging at his mouth. "Yeah," he said, finishing his drink. "Just wishing for something I probably shouldn't."

It had been six months since Maya left for Chicago. Six months of silence, except for the occasional "like" on a photo—a digital breadcrumb that led nowhere. CHASE WRIGHT - Wish Youd Miss Me

Chase pulled his phone out, his thumb hovering over her name. He wanted to text her about the song the band was playing—the one they danced to in his kitchen at 2 AM. Instead, he locked the screen. He knew the routine. He’d check her Instagram and see her smiling in a crowded bar in Lincoln Park, looking lighter, freer. Chase looked up, a bittersweet smile tugging at his mouth

"You okay, man?" the bartender asked, wiping down the counter. Six months of silence, except for the occasional

The sting wasn't that she was gone; it was how easily she seemed to have packed him away. He didn't want her back in the "ruin-his-life" kind of way. He just wanted to know that he had left a dent. He wanted to believe that when she walked past a park that looked like theirs, her heart skipped a beat, even if just for a second.

He closed his eyes and could almost hear her laugh over the jukebox. He imagined her sitting in her new apartment, looking at an old hoodie he’d forgotten to take, and feeling that sharp, sudden ache of "what if."