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Thursday, February 23, 2006 

What I Made You Feel

'I remind you of what?'

That's what she wanted to know. What I reminded her of. As if we hadn't been sitting and having coffee for two hours, as if I hadn't confessed the doings of my day with humor and grace, as if we weren't half in love already.

That, that's a woman for you. One moment eating out of your hand, the next painting banners on why you're the biggest asshole in the world.

'I remind you of what?' And she sets the coffee down on the table with a distinct clatter. Crosses her arms. Sits back with eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised.

You remind me of a girl. She was beautiful and had a locker three doors down from me. The air was soft and fuzzy around her and I got the feeling that if I crept close enough to touch her skin that we would feel wet and tired from the humidity. I never asked her out and then two years ago I heard she died in a car accident. All that warm muggy air dying with her. I had never spoken to her, but for four years she made me happy, and when I heard she had died I thought I would never feel that way again.

Then, I put my coffee down too, motioned for the waiter, paid the bill.