over.

Day 1

I recognise you. Even with all these pews between us, I know it is you. I recognise your slanky figure, complete with tall height and skinny limbs. I recognise your round face and that messy, dark blonde (almost brown) hair. The sight of you flips my stomach upside down – I can scarcely believe it. How long has it been since we last saw and spoke to one another? Five. Five years. And I remember it all too well.

I am sort of excited to see you again, despite the fact that the reason we haven’t communicated for the last five years is that it didn’t quite end all that well between us; in fact, we didn’t like each other very much at all. Still, I wonder if perhaps – now that we are both older – we can achieve what earlier were not quite able to achieve, and become friends. I want to say hi to you, and have a small conversation with you to see what it is like. But you do not seem to be interested in that: every time I approach you, you either turn away, or conveniently start talking to someone else. It seems you are intent on ignoring me.

Day 2

I watch you from my seat, remembering all there is to remember. I remember how mad I was about you, how attracted I was to you – and how you were the first person to touch me, and how we almost went all the way. I remember how I could never completely let you in, despite my passionate longing for your physicality. I remember you telling me I was your best friend, even though you had also said we were not compatible. I remember how you so often ignored me and made me wonder what was wrong. You always made me feel desired, but never loved. I remember flying across the country to see you, and being met with you getting stoned. I remember you asking me to check your heartbeat when you were high, to make sure you weren’t getting too high. I remember our last conversation, and I remember shutting the door of your apartment in the early morning, feeling like I was finally done with you.

Suddenly, you make your way over to me, interrupting my reverie.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” I say, gathering my things on the pew to make room for you to sit. I cannot, do not, understand you – yesterday you were clearly ignoring me and now you are speaking to me?

“Still living with your parents?” You ask.

“Yeah, but probably moving out next year.”

“Are they here tonight?”

“No — they don’t really come to my concerts anymore — too many of them these days –“

What kind of small talk is that! My heart is pumping, and I feel so chirpy, nervous and embarrassed that I have no idea what I am saying.

“Could you give me a ride home? I didn’t drive in tonight …”

“Sure – I mean, I could drop you off at a train station, would that be okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

As I take you to my car, something becomes glaringly apparent. Had you not needed a lift, you would have ignored me just as successfully as last night. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, as I had higher expectations of you. But I see you only care for your own needs and, much like in the past, are only ever kind and friendly towards me when you are seeking to gain something from me.

Go back to where you came from; your time in my life is definitely and completely over.