so it’s been over 2 years since we last talked.
i can’t say i haven’t missed you.
it ended way before it started.
story of my life.
it came out of nowhere, but it just felt right.
i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.
ps: i still owe you.
April never stays this cold, so I
didn’t bring a sweatshirt when I left the house.
You noticed my shivering shoulders so
you gave me yours. It was old, ratty,
and it said “St. John’s” on it, with the words
“Red Storm” on the sleeves.
It smelled like you, and I’m not sure
that’s a good thing.
You gave me a wrinkled $10 dollar bill from
your wallet that you’ve had since 5th grade.
“Do yourself a favor and go see Ironman.“
I mumbled something about having
to study integrals and derivatives for
my AP Calc exam tomorrow. But you
told me that if I didn’t know them by
now, I’m not going to learn them overnight.
So I hopped on a bus leaving DC,
wearing your red sweatshirt you named Sanchez.
I’ve never taken the bus at 11am, and I was
surprised to see how quieter it was than usual.
There was no one on the bus except for an
old couple who both smelled like cheese, and
some guys in their 20’s, who looked like they
were up to no good. You would’ve talked
to them if you’d been with me, and I would
have too, but I didn’t know what to say.
So I sat there in silence, hoping my
plaid skirt and knee high socks didn’t say
too much about my plans for today.
I got to the empty movie theater and
hesitated to go in. Trying to open the door
strangely reminded me of that horror movie
you once showed me. I walked in anyway,
noticing the pattern on the carpet for the first time:
diamond shapes in purple, pink, and brown.
It was butt-ugly, but you would’ve liked it.
I walked to the ticket booth and pulled
the $10 dollar bill you gave me out of my pocket,
almost ripping it in half in the process. I handed
it to a guy with a name tag that said Steve.
“Why aren’t you in school?” he asked.
I shrugged and said, “I didn’t feel like learning.”
I walked inside theater number fourteen
and looked around for a decent spot.
I was alone, except for a bald guy (who oddly
looked like your Uncle Mike), chewing popcorn
with a metal grinding sound. I sat down and
put my feet up like I always do, getting
comfortable with Sanchez, your sweatshirt.
I took a deep breath, and as the lights went off,
I wished you were with me.