They say you can’t go back but, here I am, transported to this dark, quiet lounge waiting for the person that will inevitably bring me my future. Going back takes me to the moment just before my life, a life filled with days and nights containing what I believed to be certain satisfaction, is changed forever. I’ve chosen a seat that places my back to the door so that I might appear somewhat indifferent and aloof. Hoping to ensure that my face doesn’t betray my misguided enthusiasm. The minutes, hours, days and weeks that led to me sitting here now were filled with fun and flirty calls and messages but were also laden with questions, untruths and denial. Choosing false hope over tangible doubt, I wait. He walks up behind me laying a hand on my shoulder, instantly altering my existence. I could, should implore myself to follow my gut, my intuition and change the course of this inevitable path. I should walk out, close the door, look ahead, not back. But I won’t, I don’t, I didn’t. They say you can’t go back and in the end I am grateful for that because if you could, I wouldn’t have her.