We sit, knees touching, at 3am on a Tuesday.
“Last year, did you like me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Was I that obvious?”
“Kinda. I liked you a lot, too.” He laughs.
“Well, it’s okay,” I say, looking at my shoes. “We wouldn’t have worked anyway.”
He jerks his head up and narrows his gaze. “I think it would’ve worked out great.”
– Anonymous

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