We spent our first night together making love, and I
expected more to come.
“Call me.”
“Sure thing, babe.”
Then he reached over and grabbed an unfinished
cigarette.
On the way home, I was almost hit by the drunkest
driver. I ran back to the sidewalk. He missed me by a
mile. No matter, I was in love.
Crazy love.
I went to sleep expecting to wake up to roses at my
door. But there were no roses then, or ever. No nothing.
We spent a joyous night together; that was all he
had to give.
Short term.
But perfect.
