What happened to Zachary, really? Why did he just leave everyone he knew, just to leave no trace of him? I have his number, in my phone. 

I dial it. 

My hands are shaking as I do so.

Zachary. 

"Hello?" Someone answers. Tears come to my eyes. 

"Karrie." Questions flood my mind. Will Zachary remember me by my nickname? Will he remember me at all? The voice on the other end of the phone is deep and husky; definitely Zachary.

"Sorry?" 

The voice is blunt.

He does not remember, nothing at all .

"K-Karina. Speaking." I try to make my voice sound calm. 

"I'm sorry." What? What does he mean by 'Sorry'? 

A sigh escapes my lips. Of course. This was pointless.

"Zachary. Right?" 

One last try.

The person on the other end of the call sighs. Exasperation. It seems as if I have wasted his time. What was he doing, guitar practise? What else do I expect him to do? After all, he'd walk on those strings to attain fame.

I hit the television with a pillow. Olivia and I have a thing for hitting stuff.

"Wrong number."

This is the worst way I wanted to say a proper goodbye to Zachary. He just waved me off, like he did after two years of being together.

Then I realise.

It has been fifteen years.