Emma Glows at Sunsets

I don’t know her. But I imagine Emma glows at sunsets. She radiates like the sun. Even now as I am writing this, I could see her face smiling at me and it gives me warmth in my stomach. How tender she must have been with you. You smiled differently, you seemed happy. When I saw you with her, I felt peaceful. If you should be with anyone, it should be her.

I imagine all sorts of things about her. How she took her morning coffee. How she sang in the shower. How she glided on stage, singing and chanting her lines. I imagined the crowd inside the theater mesmerized by how she moved, how she spoke, how she shined. She had so much light. She was the light you needed in times of gloom and darkness. I was thankful for her, but only in some hidden parts of me.

To say that Emma is talented is an understatement, but she’s humbling, even more with a star’s qualities. You met her when you were working on music scores for one of her sold out plays. They took it out from Broadway, touring around the globe. You needed a space to forget me, and so you two met.

Joe told me this.

He didn’t mean to set you up with her, you just happened to be there when Joe, Shelly, James, and Emma had a dinner at the Bel Air. You were at the bar, drinking alone yet another night not long after we broke up. Joe dragged you to join their table.

You didn’t even say much, nor did she. But you and beautiful Emma, you two exchanged looks like no one else was there. You loved the way she smiled almost immediately, how enchanting that you couldn’t take your eyes off of her.

She drove you home that night because you were a bit tipsy. You gambled fate by asking her to stay the night and she did.

But she wasn’t me. She didn’t wake you up the way I did. She didn’t make your coffee the way I did (too much sugar!). She didn’t make you breakfast. She went into shower and head off to work. She didn’t say goodbye. She smiled at you from the door as if she knew you weren’t really there.

And just like that she’s gone.

And you were alone (and lonely) again.

But perhaps she did woke you up the way I did. She did make your coffee exactly the way you wanted it, and she made you perfect breakfast: french toast with sprinkled Swiss cheddar, or just a plain old blueberry pop tarts, piled and warmed up, glazed with honey. She kissed you goodbye and said would call for a dinner date, you didn’t have to do anything. She’s perfect and you fell in love head over hills for her.

Only years after I would know you weren’t with her. The whole time I wasn’t there you were lonely, working like a dog, then hopping from one bar to another, drinking.

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