I set my unfinished drink right next to yours, on a semi-level jut of concrete behind a row of hedges outside an optometrist’s practice in Audrey Heights and we hugged each other just for warmth alone under the misty drunken fog of the temporary security lights that would soon blink out and leave us alone. We both kind of woke up at the same time a few hours later, before anyone showed up to kick us out or maybe call the cops. We walked very slowly to the 24-hour Yorke Diner and split an appetizer of fries and split one beer after the other like we just should have ordered our own beers to begin with to save the hassle of ordering yet again, and we shared a cup of coffee too while waiting for another appetizer of fries because the first one was such a tease and so good and we ate it so damned drunkenly fast, and I swear on my dead mother’s grave that I felt you were the one for me. But I just couldn’t say it, so I didn’t. Fast minutes turned into whirlwinds, and you were in Pellborough before winter fell, and the last I heard from you, you were breaking up with a bank manager and you had a new job in a new town with a new life and a new car and a new boyfriend already, and everything was like a shock to me, so much that I could only just kind of process it in delusional fits of anger, despondence and jealousy.