#137
It’s almost like I’ve been alone my whole life.
We were sitting in an airport bar, but neither of us was drinking.
Her: what do you mean?
Me: It’s like I woke up one day and couldn’t remember any of the time spent with anyone else.
Her: that sounds terrible.
I wasn’t sure if it was terrible or just a way that my mind was coping with life, in general, these days, weeks, years.
Me: today is a good example. You’ll go one way, I’ll go another. Will we even remember this hour spent here? Does it count?
Her: I’m not keeping score.
Later that night, both of us in hotel rooms dreading whatever it was we were there to do the next day — a text message.
Her: I think it counts.