Am I over him yet? Maybe. Yes. I think so. Yes. No. Maybe. Let's see. Every time my phone beeps, my heart skips a beat in the hope that it might be him. Every time my phone rings, part of me wants the screen to display his number which by the way I still remember by heart even though I deleted it long ago. Every time I become part of a crowd, my eyes wander trying to land on that one face I used to cup with my hands. But I have moved on. I am over him. Right? At least that's what I tell myself every night before I go to sleep. And quite frankly, that's what helps me sleep. Every time I see someone as tall as him, with a complexion similar to his, and a walk that reminds me of him walking away, I almost run toward the man only to embarrass myself and apologise for the intrusion. Sometimes I even dream about him and wake up in the middle of the night startled because I can't tell if it was a sweet dream or a nightmare. Every time I see a yo