The I O U
Someone I used to know with her new beau. Smoke from a cigar blurring my view of two wannabe politicians in a serious conversation. Bright yellow and black jerseys surrounding us like the sea. You. You asked me if I wanted to get out of there, I nodded.
You took my cold hand in yours, leading me out of the popular downtown haunt to a martini bar at a hotel a few blocks away.
Strangers making out over empty martini glasses. Humidity from the raining night pleading to get in through the cracks around the glass doors. My hot pink manicure making its way around the bar menu. You.
I order the martini on the cover of the menu, you argue that it’s a Manhattan. I bite my bottom lip and shake my head in disagreement. You bet me that if it is a martini, you’ll buy me a drink when we are home in the city. If it’s a Manhattan, I’ll buy you a drink when we are home in the city.
Distant friends reuniting at a hotel bar on a random night. Exchanged glances and bitten lips sending clear messages. My own dimples showing as I smile at the bartender’s answer. You.
I still owe you a drink.