It was a Tuesday and I was sitting around Penelope's coffee shop getting caffeinated. She told me to come at a specific time because she's wanted to meddle. You see, she has a friend that has seem to take a shining to me and my wittiness and she told me that her friend would just so be happen to be at the shop.
So I sat down, with her friend on my left, wondering if I should ask her to a play and Penelope in front of me manning the expresso machine. I was listening to her talk about all the guys she's dating at the moment and so on and so forth. She then asks me why I've never asked her out on a date in a matter of fact way.
And I didn't know.
Walking to the video store afterwards, I felt the most horrific headache of defeat and lost chance. Of course I wanted to go out with her. I'm probably a few degrees below being boiling in love with her.
I rented a movie that I thought may be slightly above detestable and ventured to Antonios for a few slices. I should write her a letter I thought, tell her how I felt.
Instead, I watched that rented movie that turned out to be very much detestable and ate pizza that was very much lovely. At 2 in the morning I decided that yes, I was going to write her a letter, telling her how I felt, no holds bar - not caring that she's seeing at least two people at the moment, that she's in fact trying to fix me up with a friend of hers, that the jealousy of other people in our circle would get to warlike states of being, it didn't matter.
At 3 in the morning, I walked to her apartment to deliver it.
At 3:30 in the morning I got lost, but soon afterwards found her place.
It must have been worth it, if only because on my way to and from her apartment, I saw a small mouse scamper from under a rock chase a crumb to eat in the middle of the city and I happened upon some wet concrete on 13th that quickly bore my initials.
It really doesn't take much to make me happy, although it must take much effort to make myself happy.
