The torn red and gold menu in the glass box stared back at me, the white cursive letters spelling out Massaman curry becoming clear and then blurry, clear and then blurry. My hand shook, my mouth became dry. My heart pounded so hard, it restricted breathing. "Wanna go somewhere else?" he asked. I shook my head, letting him grab my hand that escalated to producing rivers of sweat.
He pulled out the splintered wooden chair, watched me with his innocent robin egg eyes from across the unstable table. He wanted answers from my ocean eyes, but I hid you much deeper than anyone could go without gear.
His blonde hair went out of focus, and your curly chestnut 'fro replaced it. You raised your plum wine to toast my new job and took my hand in yours, drying up the rivers. Your crooked smile revealing your straightened teeth made my own painted lips slightly curve up, revealing my only dimple. My platinum engagement ring dug sharply into my fingers, but I didn't mind.
"Hun?" I hated that word. "Honey? Know what you want?" I unjustifiably hated him for killing your ghost.
"Massaman curry." I struggled.
You will never know how good the curry was at the new Thai place on Roebling. How much I want, need to tell you that.