She left her scarf in my car. I drove forty miles to return it. She said she left it on purpose.
A lavender scarf on the passenger seat. He drove an hour to give it back. She smiled like the plan worked.
The scarf was on my passenger seat.
Lavender. Soft. Still warm.
She'd been out of the car for ten minutes.
I picked it up and texted her.
You forgot your scarf.
She didn't reply.
An hour later I was driving to her apartment.
Forty miles. No traffic. Just me and the scarf and a reason.
I knocked on her door at 9 p.m.
She opened it in a sweatshirt. Hair up. No makeup.
She looked at the scarf.
Then at me.
Then she smiled.
I drove forty miles for this?
She took the scarf and said I left it on purpose.
I stared at her.
She said I needed a reason for you to come back.
I stood in her doorway trying to breathe.
She said do you want to come inside.
I said I drove forty miles. Of course I do.
She closed the door behind me and I realized the scarf was never forgotten. It was bait. And I took it gladly.