a dream is a wish your heart makes
The party was bustling, filled with throngs of people milling around. The cold night air and bright lights add a note of festivity to the air, reminding me of the Christmas carnivals my parents used to take me to when I was a child. I cross a bridge hanging over a small pond. The water glistens in the night, reflecting the colorful light bulbs strung all over the garden.
Suddenly, I catch sight of you, standing on one side of the bridge.
I didnt know you were back. I'm stunned, but try not to act surprised. Your head turns as I pass by you, but I look straight ahead and pretend not to notice. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was just someone who looked like you.
I'm too much of a coward to look back.
Suddenly, I catch sight of you, standing on one side of the bridge.
I didnt know you were back. I'm stunned, but try not to act surprised. Your head turns as I pass by you, but I look straight ahead and pretend not to notice. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was just someone who looked like you.
I'm too much of a coward to look back.
***
The party is over. I am alone on the sidewalk, heading towards my car on the far end of the street. I feel the strange sense of emptiness that I always get when I go to parties. I push it out of my thoughts, and instead listen absently to the clack of my heels against the sidewalk.
I hear someone say my name.
I look up, and there you are, standing a few feet away from me.
I freeze. So, it really was you I had seen. I quickly regather my composure, and continue walking.
"Talk to me," you say, following me.
I ignore you. I wasn't ready to talk to you.
You hand me a sheet of paper. There, scribbled in your handwriting, are the words 'I'm sorry.'
I continue walking, but you hand me another sheet of paper. I realize you are holding a sheaf of paper in your hands.
I stop, and slowly turn to face you. We stand there mutely under a street lamp. You hand me note after note, waiting patiently as I read it before handing over the next. I am silent as I read each note, telling me the story of us.
When all the notes are gone, I look up. I realize only then that I had been crying. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's talk."
I hear someone say my name.
I look up, and there you are, standing a few feet away from me.
I freeze. So, it really was you I had seen. I quickly regather my composure, and continue walking.
"Talk to me," you say, following me.
I ignore you. I wasn't ready to talk to you.
You hand me a sheet of paper. There, scribbled in your handwriting, are the words 'I'm sorry.'
I continue walking, but you hand me another sheet of paper. I realize you are holding a sheaf of paper in your hands.
I stop, and slowly turn to face you. We stand there mutely under a street lamp. You hand me note after note, waiting patiently as I read it before handing over the next. I am silent as I read each note, telling me the story of us.
When all the notes are gone, I look up. I realize only then that I had been crying. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's talk."
***
We talk over coffee. We talk about everything, from what happened to us, to what happened when we were apart. We talk the whole night through, making up for all the lost time and all the lost moments we had let pass.
I smile for what seems the first time in ages.
I smile for what seems the first time in ages.
***
I wake up. There, in the darkness, my heart plummets as I realize it was just a dream. My hope crumbles into pieces.
I'm not over you.
I'm not over you.
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