The Winning Shot
“Will you be doing your usual wings and martini tonight?” he asked as I entered the diviest bar we could find on this side of Williamsburg. I was caught off guard by his question, raising an eyebrow.
“You read my blog?” I asked. No one read my second blog. It was a secret I kept close to my chest, so it wouldn’t become as well-read as my first blog. After all, it’s so much harder to write when you know how many eyeballs are reading it. My second blog became my pet project, my collection of letters that I would never send.
“All of it,” he said. “Just last night.”
And in a moment, I had someone to discuss all of my inner being with, all of my soul, all of my writing. In a moment, someone knew me better than anyone else because they had read the blood from my heart smeared on the pages in a location few dared to go.
All you had to do was take one second, one moment, to read my heart. And you I would have been yours forever.