Short Story

Dear girl who I once knew,

It’s a shame we nev­er hooked up. The Lord knows I want­ed to. All those times we spent hang­ing out [with all that ten­sion hang­ing between us] we should have done some­thing about it. I used to look at your hair or your eyes or the arch in your back and want to hold hold hold you. I would think about what it would be like to wake up with your hair tick­ling my face, and I’d try to fig­ure out how I would dis­en­tan­gle legs with­out dis­turb­ing you. Just break­fast and close­ness. Those could have been good times. Then things end­ed, high school, col­lege, sum­mer vaca­tions and we were left with no time for any­thing more than a wist­ful good­bye.

Of course you prob­a­bly saw things a bit dif­fer­ent­ly.

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