"I don't recall that"
I say to her.

She may have mentioned it, sure,
But I can't really even remember what I had for breakfast, let alone something said two years ago...



"You don't listen,"
she tells me.
"You just let the words fall through you."

I smile, I agree.
I'm struggling with figuring out
what kind of reaction I should be having.
Should I be argumentative,
or empathetic?
What does she want me to say?
What does she want to hear?
I say nothing, just stand there and watch.

"It's like you're not even a real person,"
she mutters softly as she turns to walk away.
"I have no idea who you are, after all these years."

Before her hand touches the **** on my front door
she pauses, turns and looks me solemnly
in the eyes, her focus darting back and forth
between each of my irises.
I just look back at her, rather unflinchingly.

"You're a stranger Justin Wampler."

With that, she turns and leaves.

I crack a beer and ponder a bit.
Mostly not really thinking anything, just...
trying to look cool.
I peek over at the mirror on the wall
and think to myself ****,
contemplative's a good look for me.

Oh well.