You left the room shortly after I got in. I only know it because someone told me;
«You just missed her» they said, «I’m sure you would have fallen for her.»
I went that night because I had nothing else to do. Beer in hand, fleeting from table to table, chatting the chats that strangers in a bar tend to have. The most trivial and the most important—both can be trusted to a friendly, inebriated stranger that won’t be here tomorrow morning.
Later, I found old friends at a table—not a hard thing to happen in a small city with few good watering holes. A chance encounter always deserves a toast, even if the chances are high.
We started with Gin and Tonics, then replaced the Gin with Mezcal, and the Tonics with Beer. We started with how we’ve been, then replaced it with how we wish we were. We started with your new partner, then replaced it with my chronic singleness.
«You just missed her» they said, «I thought you knew her already.»
I was told you were very pretty. That everyone had crushes on you, that you were my type, or I was yours, I can’t remember now, my head is killing me.
I was told you were very pretty, but never told why. I would rather know what you look like. That way I wouldn’t have spent these days wondering who you are. Are you the bookish one at the café or the extroverted one at the bookshop? The one in suit and tie or the braless carefree at the skate park?
I was told you were very pretty, and now I have to believe it.
Based on a true story.