I’d like to think I’m saving us for the perfect time. For the time when we’ve grown on our own and we’ve learned to love ourselves. I like the thought of coincidentally running into you in a street somewhere back in town after not having talked for years. I would notice you first but pretend not to. You’d give me that same old look you always did whenever our eyes met.
About that time, we’d have learned to accept that we weren’t meant to be with each other then. It was for the best. We both had other priorities to focus on. A career to build, an outlook to develop, adventures to embark on.
I’d like to think that as we treaded our different paths, it led to seeing you again on that street. A familiar love, a dear friend. It would be lovely—finding someone I never thought I’d see again. Yet there you would be, right before my eyes, with a presence gentle and reassuring. After all this time, I’d understand why I had never set my heart for anyone else after you, and why a few moments later you’d ask me out for coffee.
It was this I was saving us for. The perfect time. That’s what I’d like to think.




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