While I took your money in exchange for that bottle of pinot grigio, you chattered into your cell phone about how “this was the last time” and that “you’d had enough of her nonsense” all without even looking at me. I was looking at you though. You had pretty skin. Even and smooth with a few little beautymarks. I liked your earrings. They were dangly. I haven’t worn earrings in a long time. Not really for any reason. Actually, that’s not true. I remember feeling like I had too many things going on on my head. My glasses, my big hair, this flower barrette I was obsessed with. I should start wearing earrings again. Yours looked pretty on you.
Thank you for ignoring me today. I didn’t feel like talking about kids and halloween costumes or how the mums you just got 2 weeks ago from Home Depot died already and your husband is pissed.
Thank you for ignoring me when I asked if you needed help finding anything. I watched you walk away and thought you seemed sad. Those shoes you had on looked really uncomfortable and I knew you’d be kicking them off as soon as you got home. And you’d probobly never wear them again. You just didn’t feel like talking. I totally get it. It’s ok.
Thank you for ignoring me today. It felt like looking into other people’s houses when I’d walk my dog, Loretta, at night. The lighting in their living rooms always seemed warmer. Their houses, more cozy. Their families, more normal.
Thank you for ignoring me today and leaving my protective bubble intact. I like it. I like the distorted view from inside.