He leaned in close, trying to hear her words over the jolly holiday tunes and the yells of other conversations.
A man in Christmas sweats danced while a group of women giggled at his antics. The place pulsed with cheer and beer. But, he wanted to hear her words. Her lips were moving, and he caught at the words. “I know you love me, but it’s not enough.”
He wished the bar would go silent. He wished he hadn’t heard her words. He wished he hadn’t driven them both. He wished for something so different than this.
And so had she.
***
The grocery store was crowded that day. With my paper list gripped in my hand, I did my best to walk around everyone, ignoring eye contact and muttering polite sounds to excuse myself through tight places. That’s when something in my peripheral caught my attention. I looked, eyes catching in the cocoa gaze of a small girl. She was so serious. Mouth like mine, small attached ear lobes, a statement nose like my grandfather’s. I couldn’t breathe.
She reached up her hand, and though I reached, a hand not mine took hers. I blinked, and my vision cleared, rushing tears down my cheeks. I looked to my hand that still reached, and just beyond fingertips, my grocery list fluttered to the floor.
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