The Right Person

He couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him after all these years, single at last. She was a serial monogamist, a chain dater, a consecutive rebounder. He had been the constant friend. Well, until he couldn’t take it anymore; then he became the not-so-constant friend, the absent friend.

“I finally realized what was missing from my relationships,” she said. Her eyes glazed over. “To be with the wrong person is to feel a vital part of yourself is constantly left unexpressed.”

He remained silent, scarcely daring to hope that she had finally reached an emotional epiphany. But then he couldn’t help himself. “I’m happy to hear you say that. So happy. You have no idea. I’ve worried about you so much.” He smiled. “And I’m really glad you got back in touch. Missed me a lot, huh?”

“It wasn’t so much that I missed you, though I did,” she said. “It’s just…I miss who I am when I’m with you.”

He swallowed a gulp of dry air. “And who is that?”

“Me,” she said simply. “When I’m with you, I’m me. The me-est I’ll ever be.”

“You sound like Dr. Seuss.”

She gave a crooked grin, but a grand one, a genuine one, a grin that flashed brilliant neon-white like a streak of lightening for only second – and then it was gone.

Gone like a luminous fantasy that vanishes when reality finally outshines your dreams.


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