One Night as Strangers

My first love is three seats away, pretending we never happened

Four years ago,

Avery knew my coffee order,

my nightmares,

and every way I lied about being okay.

Tonight,

they look straight at me and ask,

“What’s your name?”

I almost laugh.

Instead,

I give them a fake one.

Avery smiles.

“Perfect. Let’s see if we can fall for each other without remembering why we broke.”

Quinn studies us for a second.

“You two are terrible at being strangers.”

Neither of us laughs.

Avery looks at the clock.

“I leave at six.”

My train leaves at six fifteen.

Of course even our exits almost match.

Avery looks back at me. “Maybe that is why tonight works.”

“Strangers do not have to decide what happens tomorrow.”

And suddenly I understand the rule.

We are not pretending we never loved each other.

We are pretending morning cannot hurt us again.

Avery looks at the clock.

“There is something I did not tell you.”

I already know I am going to hate how carefully they say it.

“I knew you would be here.”

My stomach drops.

Avery reaches into their bag and places an old postcard between us.

I recognize my handwriting before I recognize the city on the front.

I wrote it four years ago.

Back when forever still sounded ordinary.

Avery turns it over.

One sentence is circled.

“If we ever become strangers, meet me here and introduce yourself again.”

I forgot I ever wrote it.

Avery did not.

“I almost came every year.”

“Tonight was the first year I could come without asking you to come back.”

That hurts more than if they had.

Because I finally understand what this night was.

Not another beginning.

Not another ending.

Just two people meeting without asking their old love to decide what happens next.

Avery stands when the clock reaches six.

“It was nice meeting you.”

For once, I know exactly what they mean.

Maybe we never needed another chance. We needed to meet who losing each other allowed us to become.