I saw her on the train, in a conference hall, at the groceries, buying carrots. Suddenly, after that night, I see her in every woman that happens to have whatever she has, either brown hair, or wide forehead, or that sexy mole on her cheek. No one yet, to my relief and disappointment, has the exact same stare that could shake my knees and make me feel dumb.
The things I told her when we smoked that joint, I don’t remember telling anyone. Even my bitchy girlfriend. It was issues I didn’t think were important, until she started asking. I began to feel weird since my brother was so enamoured by this woman and he has been a hermit before he met her. When she passed me back the joint and I could feel the moisture from her lips on the end, my heart did a slow somersault. I knew why that came about. I’ve felt it before. She looked at me and it was like she knew what I was thinking.
My brothe emailed me at work: it was short and sweet. Dude, he wrote. This is it, man. I’m getting this girl to be my wife. I have not been sleeping well; haunted by the very presence of her and the ironic setting.
Ever since then I started seeing her everywhere.
