Nearsighted

Most humans have faith, right? Maybe not in God or our president, but I’ll assume most humans have faith in their own eyes. My eyes have been lying to me lately.

There’s a man standing 6 feet away from me in line at a coffee shop. My eyes say I know him. He’s someone I’ve seen naked, sad, crying, and most of the time laughing.

I’ve shared intimate moments with this human. He’s next in line to order his latte with regular milk (iced cold brew in the summer, black), and I’ve fallen in and out of love with him at least 6 times since the two of us met.

“Keep it simple and honest,” I tell myself as he nears the front of the line.

I glance over every few moments to see his hair that’s changed (because tagged photos updated me) his eyes (that did too much wandering while we were together), and his smile that only exists when it has to.

My heart beats faster, I can hear the clock ticking and the motion of shoes as they inch towards the cashier.

“Decaf black coffee,” he says as he exposes his voice.

He’s in the world, somewhere, but not here waiting for his latte.

The glancing every few seconds, the 10 thousand thoughts running wild, the sweat on my palms, it was all for nothing. Literally, nothing.

“Do I relax now? Is this a sign that he’s coming and this was just a test on how I’d react? Is the world fucking with my head? Is Mercury in Retrograde? What the fuck.”

I sink back into my chair and grab my glasses.

Not only was it not him, but there is also no way these two could even pass as siblings. I chuckle and reach for my phone.

That’s what it’s like
when you forget to wear your glasses
in a coffee shop
in a small
Brooklyn neighborhood.

:)