In one picture, leaning on a railing, over looking one of what looks like Italy’s famous canals. I am not interested in the intricate and quite frankly breathtaking architecture behind him. I should be – I’ve never been there, and I see no chance of it in the near future. I’ve always wanted to go. But instead, strange thoughts go through my head as I view what should be simple photos of a good friend on an awesome and life changing vacation:
Instead my brain is thinking- I’ve never seen him that relaxed. There is no gel in his hair. Who is that girl in that he has his arm around? She’s in a few other pictures too, and seems like his date in other pictures, and she’s very pretty. Prettier than me. Straight even teeth, very shiny hair. I wonder if they met on the tour? Was there chemistry from the very beginning? How long did it last? Or do they still talk? Does he think about her? I can envision his hands on her curves. The ill-begotten consequence of an active imagination. Does he miss her, long for her body? Or was it a casual fling? Something new and different? How many times did they make love while in different countries? I can tell they did- he has a looseness in his smile that is new- no upturn snarl of sarcasm. There is a relaxation he’s never possessed, a carelessness.
I’m a little sad, though it’s not within my rights. But in all the time I’ve known him, he’s never had that lightness. I’ve never been able to give him a smile like that. Not a bright and happy glow like the one by the canal.
I wonder, is she holding the camera?
I wonder some more, what the hell is wrong with me? There was never a possibility. You passed- remember? His arms were there, you turned your head. You blocked. You resisted. You’re not on the market.
But still, wrinkled shirt, soft bristled hair, relaxed arms, easy smile- I could’ve given him that.
Have I lost something?
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