It goes in a small box. I must celebrate a friend’s special day and take interest in my fellow guests.
The effort pays off. After four years of knowing each other, we move from the usual cordial conversation to something of substance. I give her a ride home. She lives a stone’s throw away from a special red cafe, a place I had wanted to visit later tonight to nurse the heartache with sweet chocolate.
I glance to my left, hoping to catch a serendipitous dynamite, but the fire isn’t there. I drive away. At the intersection, I turn right, away from the direction where I would be spending my evenings.