I don’t know too much about you, and maybe that’s for the best right now, but I can’t stop thinking about how your eyes lit up when I remembered your name. How you eased into the seat beside me to talk about Jack Daniel’s and rounds of golf. How inexplicably upset I was to find out you’d slipped out early and gone home before I found the drunken courage to say much more.
Maybe you’re just an encounter meant to make me think twice, or maybe there really could be something to this. Here’s to hoping I’ll run into you again.