She spoke of him again today, claimed she'd dreamt of him. Then we walked the streets, talking and laughing...that's where she smelled his smell. "Not as pretty as him," she said, "he's wearing short shorts anyways." She'd wondered aloud if it had just been her heart and mind playing tricks on her. "It wasn't," we agreed.
"...sun’s going down let’s get together on the bridge we’ll meet up tonight..."