Next Week

She was not fond of surprises or coincidences. Without the exception when she found him at her favourite bar on a Friday night where she was hoping for a calm evening, on behalf of her racing heartbeat. She tried to avoid the very form of the past she had to let go, but it was too late.

He said: "Hey!"

Sounded genuinely shocked, as if she was a ghost, or maybe she was for him.

She said: "Hey,"

Calmer than she sounded in her head.

They briefly chatted of how are you and what you have been up to cliches underneath the uncomfortable longing to touch; probably for the sake of the history, politeness or the feelings that were still vaguely linger, before parted to their own fortress.

But then suddenly,

He said: "Do you want to do something next week?"

His familiar warmth was once again stroke her in shock, unexpected, as she was ready to walk away. She thought the conversation was over. She thought, he was gone. She thought, he would never come back. But he did.

She said: "Uh, yes, sure."

A moment of doubt, but followed with intense affirmation as if yes was not enough, as if sure would support her answer stronger than her bones.

He said: "Okay, I'll text you."

She smiled, out of her breath as he left, looking at what she thought was happiness.

So, she waited.

And waited for some more.

Next week never felt so long.

But then of course, just like that one moment of doubt, there was never a text received and next week never happened. There went the last remaining part of heart, gone.