Sometimes I notice the craziest things and I wonder what they all mean, or whether they really mean anything at all, because everything seems so oddly significant and insignificant all at once.
Like that amused looking man on the bus who kept sucking his teeth half-smirk and I couldn’t tell whether he was happily lost in his own head or searching out his next victim as he grinned and stared at every person who moved past him.
And it almost looked exactly like the thinly-veiled rage I’ve grown so familiar with lately.
And the man across from me with the rip in his jeans right where I never want to see a rip in a man’s jeans (especially this man’s jeans), but he was oblivious, spread-legged and just kept smiling right past me at the city flying by outside the window.
And I remember thinking how much I wished I could be as lost as he looked right then.
And the name on that bicycle we passed on our way to meet up with friends — a bicycle we have probably passed a hundred times before, but this time it caught my eye — and, for a second, the name looked just like someone I might want to know. So much so that I had to do a double take while keeping pace with your hurry and the sounds of our friends’ laughter outside the bar, before I realized how silly it was to stare at a bicycle like it wasn’t a bicycle at all.
And now I don’t even remember the name.
Then there was the way you smiled at me when I walked back inside followed by a heavy cloud of smoke and beer breath on my neck. I think it was the first time in a long time that I actually believed you were happy to see me.
And I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that maybe the things we want for ourselves aren’t always what we want for each other.
So, for a second, I stopped thinking about the amused, smirking man and the hole in the jeans and the name on the bicycle, and everything around me was only you and the way you smelled and the way you felt. Like I stepped back in time ten months or so and we were standing in that same spot, so enamored that we never even noticed the other people in the room.
Then I started thinking how crazy it was that the room suddenly felt so damned crowded.
And somehow all those little, insignificant things, added up, made perfect sense.