It wasn’t like the movies.
There wasn’t that glance across a crowded room or the accidental touch of our hands followed by us both looking down, stealing glanced and smiling. Like we do.
It started when she asked if I was gay. Half right, I thought. And she had a sense of humour. She must be perfect.
We sent a million texts. I became addicted to the digital opioids she was peddling.
I told her how I felt. I waited four days, seven hours for the response.
She said there was someone else.
They never show that in the movies.
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