I See You All Around

I think I see you. From time to time, I cannot be sure.

You were there at the market. I was smelling pineapples, squeezing, unsure of how to pick one just ripe. I saw you pondering nuts and dried up berries down the way. I thought to say hello, but thought against it. Perhaps someone who only looks like you.

You were driving beside me, I remember. But I wasn't going to take my eyes off the road. A girl with dark hair, a small white car, rusting over the back left wheel. I suppose it could have been any number of people.

I thought I saw you through the window. Just a pane and a world between us. I thought of ways to say hello, to see if it was actually you, to see how we actually were. But too much time had passed. And it did not seem right to encourage you.

Yes, I could swear I see you all around. But it never occurred to me until the middle of the night that perhaps you see me, too.

Sweetheart, I said, is that you? You said you didn't like to be called that anymore, not by me. I asked what time it was and you hazily replied. It felt like danger. I asked if you'd been following me. You were shocked, speechless. Following you, you said. But you're the one standing in my bedroom.

She was wrong. She asked me to leave. Our, I wanted to say. Our.