I guess it’s true that I didn’t meet you in the winter.
It was the cool of spring-summer evenings; the air tinged with a hint of resentment; the walk of a girl trying to get noticed; the honk of a stranger in the parking lot; the sight of you, in a long, black, wool coat, on the street where I pass you outside of a piano shop before circling back for our First Date: Sight Unseen
The thought of, “that’s probably him.”
