That moment when your friends with benefits dumps you.
A new degree of burn.
It’s been a year since I saw him last. An ENTIRE year. If I could have just seen him and not heard the words of the conversation that followed, I would be okay.
It was nice to just see him.
He looked more mature. It looked as if his slender body had grown an inch taller to put him at 6’4.
His top lip was now more proportional to his bottom lip, which I remember to be slightly more plump.
His nose was no longer bruised and broken and his left eye had healed quite nicely from that drunken fight he had gotten into with his best friend on a trip to Vegas.
His hands were the same hands that played Bach so beautifully at his parents’ house that time he cooked dinner for me and I gave his dog a bath.
He had the same demure honesty- a hair short of mistakenly being interpreted as rude bluntness (as I had initially taken it as).
The look on his face when he saw me is the way I felt about him on the inside when I saw him. However, I kept that to myself. No way was I going to give him any sign that I missed him in any kind of way. He had this look on his face that lasted a brief two or three seconds, but felt like ten minutes in that very moment. His eyes got wider, he sat up straighter… And then coolly pushed out a chair across from him for me to sit in.
I had seen a ghost, and now it was time to talk to him. I don’t regret how things turned out, but I wish I understood him more.