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It’s always one drink, never et ood brawls happen about an hour before closing tiht audience, but drunk dra

Shoving the glass out of reach, I rise fro the door … but so feels off

I check my pockets for my wallet, keys, and phone, and I steady h to drive home—I am

But soht

There’s a heaviness in the air, a weight blanketing over me

I run aze, and scan the rooain—untilI’ve ever seen

Blaire Abbott

So it was her the other day at the intersection It happened so fast; I spent a good portion of tiined the whole thing

Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe

Not that I never wanted to see her again Lord knows she’s all I’ve thought about for the past ten years, and she’s all I’ll think about for the next god-willing seventy

I drink her in like a ht jeans, the strappy top dipping low in front, the shiny chestnut hair draped over her delicate, creamy shoulders, that ripe little cherry mouth I still taste in my dreams

She stands planted where she is, her attention fixed on o to her It’s the least I can do after everything I can only is she’s assumed about me over the years, and I don’t blame her one bit

“Blaire” God, it feels good to say her naain

“Wyatt” Her araze won’t leave mine for a second She reminds me of a wild-eyed untamed mare—she wants to trust me, but she’s not in a place to surrender just yet She’s keeping her guard up, and rightfully so

“You’ve really been away all this time?” I ask Over the years, I looked for her everywhere, in places I knew she’d never be It didn’tup a part for the i a lazy Sunday drive—I looked for her

She ss “I’ve been in New York”

“I know”

Her eyes soften, as if she’s surprised I’ve cared to keep up with her over the years While I’m not one to waste hours on the Internet, I’d once in a while findher na her nas All I really kneas that she was acting and living in New York I assuredher dream, and that’s all I ever wanted for her