You ignore my call while I’m in the hospital.
We fight over things as stupid as me never having time for you.
You ignore my email telling you all the things I could never say.
I go back to the city.
We celebrate two years on the same pier we haunted on our first ‘date’.
I move back to the city.
You spill a colada on my pristinely white comforter as you nurse me back to health.
I end up having emergency surgery two days later.
We celebrate one year with a free ice cream from the lady at Sloan’s who gushes that she wants to have the love we have some day.
We fight on the beach, as sand pelts our faces, about things as stupid as you never having time for me.
We make monthly runs to Miami for coladas from Versailles, dinner at our favorite Thai place on Calle Ocho, blueberry bubble tea at that place on Collins Ave.
You push my card away from the check after slamming nachos at El Camino, signaling we are on an ‘actual’ date.
A little boy on the pier asks if we are boyfriend/girlfriend. I quickly say “no”, you say “maybe”.
We nervously giggle over a vodka soda and a whiskey sour at a random bar in Austin as I give you tips for your move to the same part of Florida as me.
I move back to South Florida.
Mascara-filled tears stain my cheeks on the drive from the city down to Florida.
I’m back in the city,
I’m looking at new jobs in South Florida and in the city.
I’m back to being a stranger to you, a random pale girl with a platinum pixie cut.
You’re back to being a stranger to me, a random pale guy wearing a skinny tie.
We’re back to never knowing each other, complete strangers.
How does it feel?