It’s the last place we actually talked. I could bring you to that place and show you exactly where our feet touched the ground in that conversation.

Amazement floods my heart when he talks to me or teases me like he used to. I find myself staring at him the rare occasions I see him: trying to get him to notice me and turning my head when he does look. Not that I still feel like I did. I look at pictures of him and don’t feel it anymore. Just an emptiness where I know a glow of friendship should linger.

I wish, when he looks at me, I look back. That he’d talk to me like he used to and I’d respond. That’d probably throw him. I wish, when he looked me in the eye, he’d see the want for friendship. That might throw him, too.

To think it all started with a crush, a confession, a couple friends, and a song…