I saw a man running this morning and he reminded me of you.
I met you on “the boat”. Do you remember? Of course you do.
It was my second summer on that top-sail schooner. It was your first.
I didn’t know who you were, but Jenna did.
We were only 15. You must have been 16.
I remember how happy I was when I knew you would be in the same “watch” as me.
I remember thinking how perfect you were. Your body. Your personality. Everything.
All of us had a crush on you. Did you know? Of course you did.
After the boat we would call you. Like the silly schoolgirls we were.
You were always kind. Always polite.
It would be six years before I would see you again.
Do you remember that night? Probably not. You had been drinking too much.
I was about to leave the club when I saw you by the door.
It was like no time had passed at all.
But so much had changed.
You had changed.
And so had I.
I gave you a ride to your motel.
You asked if I would like to talk up there, in your room.
I gave you a knowing smile and said “No”.
You looked so sad, but your eyes seemed so empty. You asked again.
I laughed; your intentions so obvious.
But I had changed.
And so had you.
I was no longer the silly schoolgirl hanging on your every word.
You were no longer perfect. It was then I realised you never were.
I waited until I could no longer see you to slowly pull the car away.
Do you remember the sound of my car driving away?
Away from you?
Of course you don’t.
But I do.