“Why am I still single?” I raked my fingers
through my thick, blond hair.
I loosened my tie and moved to the balcony.
I attended a friend’s wedding
and wished I hadn’t.
Evergreen trees and the landscape
silhouetted the spacious backyard.
Tufts of dead grass poked
through gold and red leaves.
The reflective lake mirrored the sky.
The moon drafted the stars to align
before I knew what forever meant.
I had a cigarette hanging out
of the corner of my mouth.
I sparked a lighter
and sucked in the poison.
I scratched the back of my neck
and blew my depression
through my nostrils.
“You, too?” a voice said.
I twisted around faster than I’d intended. “Excuse me?”
She emerged from the shadows and stepped beside me.
She leaned against the rail. “Single.” She took a sip of her wine. “It’s not what I’d picture of myself at forty-four.”
“Do I know you?” I arched a brow.
She looked at my cigarette. “Mind?”
I handed it to her. “Knock yourself out.”
I eyed the woman as she placed the cancer stick between both teeth.
“Dani.” She extended her arm, presenting her soft, pale hand.
She returned the smoke with her red lipstick.
“Eric,” I said, shaking her hand.
“You okay, Eric?” Dani said, placing her head on her hand, elbow propped on the rail.
“You do now,” Dani said.
“I do now, what?” I was lost in her narrow ocean-blue eyes that’d make the moon blush.
“Know me,” Dani said.
Dani’s engaging eye contact soothed my apprehension.
“I didn’t think anyone else was…” I stumbled over my embarrassment.
“Don’t.” Dani motioned. “I cry myself to sleep every night, wondering whether I’ll find a man.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said.
“You think I’m attractive, don’t you?” Dani looped her arms around her waist and gave me a serene gaze, like a lawyer who already knew the answer.
I gave her a once-over.
I shrugged. “So, you might be cute.” I folded my lips under my teeth.
“Keep going,” Dani said. “You know what.” Dani motioned. “I’ll go first.” Dani stroked her chin. “Your brown eyes are starving for truth.”
I patted my chest. “You, or me?”
“You, silly.” Dani laughed. “Great smile. Perfect build.”
“Someone who…” Dani lowered her gaze, and vulnerability fell through her words like water through cracks in a ceiling.
“Someone who?”
“Someone who doesn’t remember me.”
My eyes widened as I traced the eyes of the girl who chased me
around the first-grade playground.
“The—”
“—playground,” Dani said. “That was me.”
“And this is you,” I said.
“And this is us,” Dani said, fitting her body into mine.
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