I wander our old lives, I take the train I always took to see you, I pass the pancake place we never went because it was always too busy at brunch time,
and the teriyaki place we went instead that was surprisingly good considering it's emptiness.
I see the Kia dealership I waited in front of, not knowing you were waiting for me a block away on a charming main street.
I see the Mexican treats place where we got deliciously odd flavored paletas, and the pirate golf where we ate mediocre pizza and giggled at cheesy glow-in-the-dark pirates.
But you are not here. You do not greet me at the transit center.
While I revisit old memories, you are exploring our future. You are walking streets we may walk together. Perhaps you are passing restaurants that will become our favorites, a park where a momentous decision will be made, the locations of disappointments and joys
yet to come.
Despite the traffic and obvious signs of habitation surrounding me, this place is a ghost town to me.
It's not for me anymore.
My present is a limbo between nostalgia and anticipation. My future is with you. I'll join you soon.
