Dadeo

Friday night. 8:20ish. I'm sitting in this diner called Dadeo's with my ladies from Res. when I look out the window for just that second and see him. It was him.

But really it wasn't. A double take proved that it wasn't. But just for that second, I thought it was, and all these memories started flying back. A feeling. A laugh. A smile. A sarcastic reparte. A bond over unintelligible words. Music. Concerts. Pictures. Travel. All the conversations we had, including the fight. Well, if you can call it a fight. A silent parting of ways was more like it.

I remember the last night. The hug I didn't give. The things I wanted to say. I wanted to say it wasn't me. I didn't, because I wasn't sure he'd believe me. I didn't want to be distrusted. So I said nothing. We said goodbye. I left. I walked the way home with a pink shoebox in my hands.

There were a few tears, but they were silent. One thought went through my head over and over. I'm missing out on this wonderful person. He's missing out on me. We're knowingly missing out on each other.

And so it happened.

I'd rarely thought about it. Until Friday night.

Two nights later, and my dreams are filled with that look, that smile, that laugh.

The thought that keeps going round my head, which hadn't since that night, is I'm missing out on him. He's missing out on me.

We're missing out on each other.