God, he’s chewing with his mouth open again.
Sarah pushes over one of her peas on her plate,
Places her fork down impatiently as the metal
Chinks on the knife beneath it. Harry looks up.
Fuck, did I say something to piss her off. The fuck
Was I talking about. Time dissipates for an instant,
He obsessively goes over the past few minutes of
Their conversation, but can’t pinpoint his blinding
Miscalculation. Talk about ponies, she mentioned she
Loved them. “Ponies are great, huh.” Sarah forces a
Smile. Crisis averted. They proceed to engage in
Conversation throughout the remainder of the
Night. Sarah laughs, she smiles, but not quite
Like she did the first time. Harry gets home and
Lies in bed rehashing the details he is capable of
Remembering. Recalling every misspoken word,
Blunder in action, every reaction that could be
Perceived as annoyance, berating himself over
His behavior that could be viewed as “weird”
(Whatever the fuck that is). But she doesn’t call.
Not that night or the ones following. He starts
Reasoning that it was his gain, and that it was she
Who had lost.
Harry would keep going on these dates, Sarah too.
Where both would, at some point, find themselves thinking;