I rip a sheet of paper from a stolen notebook and quickly scribble my number on it using a borrowed pen. And shove my engagement ring in my pocket. So tempted to approach you after so many years and give you my number. I imagine it, confidently strutting over to you and handing that piece of yellow lined paper saying, “I would love to go for coffee.” Knowing how ****** of a person I’d be to do it. But so lonely and desperate enough to not care. “Just do it, just walk over and give it to him. He can decide what he wants to do with it.” But then your friend comes back and how he broke me I couldn’t do it. I watched you leave with my ring still in my pocket, and that stolen piece of paper in my hand. “Next time.” I promise myself. As I put my ring back on, and my number in my pocket.