Bring on the brand new renaissance

I have gone past that posh office building almost every day for four years. About a year ago, I finally noticed that the painting hanging in the wall in the lobby was by your favorite artist of all time. What were the chances? I really liked going by in a car, fast, glancing in the lobby window and thinking about you. I don’t really miss you any more, but I really like thinking about you once in a while. Enough time has passed now that I’m at that point where the crappy stuff has become fuzzy and faded, but the fun things, the sexy things, the things that make me smile still remain intact. Perfect. So that painting in the lobby of that faceless office building was like the trigger I needed to go where you were. Once I got to the end of the block, you were gone again. Also perfect.

The other day, I finally took the opportunity to look at the painting up close. Well, guess what. It’s not by your favorite artist after all. It’s a mediocre knock-off by someone named Cori with an i. Vaguely reminiscent of something much better. Looks like a masterpiece from far away, but upon closer inspection, it’s pretty obvious that it’s not real.

I can’t think of anything more fitting.

That's not it. Close, though.

Gum

The cab driver singing along to the Bhangra on the radio is really making me happy, even though my ears just popped like a thunderclap. What? Why did that happen. I’m probably below sea level right now.

When my ears pop, it reminds me of my mom. Whenever we took plane trips when I was a kid, besides all of the other eleventy billion things she had to remember, she always made sure she had gum in her purse just in case I had to pop my ears. And not just any gum, Juicy Fruit, which she didn’t even like. It astounds me to think that she’d single-handedly lift a car to save my life, pop my ears for me, and do everything else in between, just to make sure I’m okay. That’s a lot of details to take care of.

Handy Time Savers

I can smell the ocean in the rain tonight. It reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it. Usually, when I can’t shake the deja vu that tugs at my gut, I just assume it’s about him and move on. Saves time.

Roaming Charges

Sometimes I’m reluctant to call you. Not because I don’t want to talk to you, but because I want to talk to you so badly, and the reality is that most of the time, this little shiny rectangle is as close as I can get to you.

But then there are those precious times when we do have each other, close enough to touch, faces close. And then, I’m reluctant to ever let you go.

Leave yourself a note

She forgot to call the bank again. That’s the third time this week.

She loved being married and knew they’d be together forever, but the one thing that made her hesitate about it was that finally someone would get to know her well enough to discover that she’s a fraud.