She though she saw him today…well, it could have just as easily been him sitting in the chair in front of the coffee shop with a cigarette dangling unattended from long fingers. And, a leg casually crossed over where the ankle rested on the opposite knee. It was the green shirt, too loose tan cords and the doc martins scuffed at the toe. She sat inside and watched through the window as she absentmindedly flipped through the spiritual essays of Emerson and drank from her square juice box.
It made her think about the other night when she pressed her fingers in that hollow space below a collar bone and then silently cried when she remembered that it wasn’t the hollow space below his collar bone anymore.
She is occasionally haunted by these sightings like ghosts come to visit.
Just the other day, she came across this great quote that made her think of him and then just a quickly, she lost it when the wind caught hold of the page and blew it into the gutter. But then, she laughed remembering Oscar Wilde who said ‘we’re all in the gutter but some of us are still looking at the stars’. That’s her, looking up at the big old mystery and wondering, ‘what does it all really have to do with me’. Just crazy mixed up memories.