How many times a day do you think of her?

She asked me in the kindest of ways.

Ten.
I answered fast, and saw how her face changed.
...five to ten.
I corrected, maybe a little to quickly.

Don't lie to me because you think I'm judging.  Tell me the truth.

...It's hard for me to say...
I started slowly, searching for a hint of the feelings beneath her stare.

It depends on the day I suppose.  The answer has to be a range, because some days it's more than others. I think 5 to 10 is accurate... on average...

I could feel the disbelief without her saying a word. 
I could feel what she was thinking; the pity, the push to move on, the sadness in her heart for me.
I wondered if she could feel what I was thinking too; the desire to let go, the wish that she would leave my head and my heart for good, the hope that one day my answer would be zero and she wouldn't be at the heart of every story.

Don't judge me...
was all I could say.
I'm trying.  I'm trying hard to forget.

She nodded, in that slow, knowing way she does.
And I looked away, changed the subject, blushing slightly, embarrassed by my constant weakness when it came to the past.

And like always, she let me.