6.2.09

Pity date

When I come running in—late, frazzled, tossed together—you are already there. Everyone is gathered around you, and you look good. You probably spent the whole week choosing just the right everything, while I was keeping appointments and rushing to catch up and losing sleep over every workaday disaster.

Now though, my shoes are scuffed and considering how rushed I was to get here I’m lucky if my buttons are even aligned. If anyone saw the two of use together they’d probably assume you were on a pity date. I blush and hang back, letting you flirt with your gaggle of well-wishers.

But then a hand touches my lower back and there you are! “It’s so good to see you,” you whisper in my ear, words that I know you mean only for me.

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