so we watched a romantic film. he wore a nice scarf. i felt his arm next to mine. i felt him breathing sometimes. i forget to read the subtitles sometimes. a glass of wine each at a café and we speak of melrose place.
i catch a glimpse of his phone and his wallpaper is michelle pfeiffer's catwoman.
fuck! that wasn't supposed to happen. this takes my plan off course. i'm stuck for words because i'm looking into the pond of my own reflection. before i know it we're saying goodbye in that same spot at métro bastille.
he'd like to see me again. tuesday.
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