I wasn't really tired and I didn't really want to go home. All I wanted in the world was to hold you. And I knew when I left, I'd get a hug from you. I knew too well that would be as close as I would get.

So I went for it.

I walked toward the door. You were there, getting ready to outstretch your arms. We embraced. I held on so tight, it was almost like it was for dear life. I reached up to rub the top of your head. I had to do something - anything - to remind your subconscious to think about me.

I don't know if it worked, but that's how pathetic this hopeless romantic has become.

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© 1998 Daniel L. Cote
tillius@aol.com

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