It’s as if I’ve walked in to a party, expecting to see her there. The host notices my expectant look and, ever attentive, taps me gently on the shoulder.
“You’ve just missed her,” he says softly and I flinch with surprise.
It happens time and again as I work my way through the crowd, through the days and weeks, through a lifetime ahead. I thought for sure I’d see her again. But though she’s slipped away and left the party, it’s not as if she’s gone unnoticed. She has left her mark, undoubtedly. Rising from the murmur of the guests, there is no hiss of idle gossip, only a whisper of fond remembrances. Yes, I thought for sure I’d see her. I have so much to tell her. Perhaps another time.