We were both there, yet we didn’t know it.

We were both sitting, listening to the same music. The music that would echo in my head as eventually I wound up working downstairs.

I remember that night. It was hot, sticky. The smell of body odor of girls who preferred not to take showers penetrated the air, unwanted. The line was out the door when I arrived. I should have seen you, taller than the rest, but I did not even notice.

Perhaps I was too wrapped up in the moment. After all, this band was who I looked up to for so many of my high school years. You know, you enjoy them too.

Funny how now, that night I remember vividly but our relationship has faded into darkness. I only remember that one kiss, in your car, after the movie that made our time together seem so fragile and yet so strong.

Nothing like seeing you now. You look old, tired, worn. Like your daydreams have vanished, leaving you treading the same old routine treadmill.

I remember you were fighting it then, too. The treadmill of life. Too afraid to jump off and try something new.

Except me. And that’s why I had to go.

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