the peacefulness of french fries

It was inevitable, you see. We run in the same circles, we wander the same streets, we know the same people. So it was no surprise that after almost running into each other (a couple times quite literally, I almost ran into him), time elapsed enough to reveal him again, that being of walking perfection.

Except a year had gone by and time had given him some extra weight, lengthened his hair, roughed up his cool calm exterior. I had every right to be spitting mad, but I was never mad in the first place. I knew within five minutes of meeting him he was not for me, a dismissal that only made me more appealing, and so I relented to having him in my bed that night, not hoping or wondering or caring about anything else, because I didn't want anything from him.

I could see the fear in his eyes. You don't become that kind of man without crushing a few flowers along the way. Luckily for him, it was a Friday night at our favorite bar and the dirty bird was packed with bodies. Our eyes met over the crowd, and flitted away. He knew it was me. I knew it was him. And there was nothing else to do about it.

The night carried on. Drunks were made, laughs were had, no one was being careful anymore. The best thing about alcohol is it makes you something you could never be in the daytime; uncouth, uncivilized, unrepentant.

Eventually, under the guise of saying hello to our mutual friend, he circled nearby and hovered over us as we ate french fries to quell our late night hunger pangs.

I felt myself sharpen with anxiety and curiosity. What would this man say to me after his half hearted lies about his "sister" being mad at him for being gone all night, how he'd call me, which I knew right after he said it he wouldn't, how he let himself believe I wanted something from him because sometimes it feels better to believe what makes you feel better about yourself?

He said the french fries smelled really good.

And so, there at the bar, late at night, drunk as hell but with nothing but love in my heart, I picked out the best french fries and let him take them from my fingers and the past was the past. Because sometimes, you have to make a gesture to let people know they are forgiven, even if it's all in their head.