You danced with me on a bridge that night. Tiny paper dolls with eyes painted to stay still, to only see each other. I wanted you to dance because you decided in that moment. But you didn't. You knew long ago that we'd be together on that bridge. You scheduled it (as you did everything else). You hadn't looked at me in that minute and decided we should dance. You had already lived that moment. You were thinking of the next. I wish I could have been there for the dance you imagined. It must have been nice.