I ride the subway from here to Chicago. Somehow we run into each other. We get to talking. Confidence swirls in spurts about my head. I say little, and we look at each other. She talks about the future wedding, and that she is sorry. I think she does that pouty lip thing she did when I knew her. "You don't think it's strange to go to that three weeks [months] after me?" "I do." She mentions something unborn. Her staunch stonewall falls in pieces about her. The possibility of it belonging to me. I ask her how she wants to handle it. She ignores the question, but I know she hears me. I have said my peace, and board the subway back to Atlanta.
I wake up refreshed with the closure I had to give myself.
"I think I am finally ready to move on."
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