Today is my birthday. I am 22. I opened my email and found this in my inbox:

Dear FutureMe,
I hope by the time summer rolls around again, you're happy.
And maybe, still with him.


They had a cake for me and two other birthday girls at work. It was fluffy with lots of strawberries and whip cream. I smiled, my lips tight across my face, as they sang Happy Birthday!

Dinner later tonight with good friends. I feel out of place and not current at all. I'm going to wear a dark blue dress my mother gave me from the Philippines, then wrap myself with a leather belt.