May

The first time I saw you was at a Halloween Party. The house was filled with people in costumes from Super Mario to French Maids. I was dressed as a pin-up and you were a tourist. I remember the first time I saw you, as I walked through the house bumping into people heading to the back porch. The back yard was filled with even more people, and out of the whole sea of faces, you stood out. I was so hesitant to approach you and start conversation, so I waited. I didn’t want to be around anyone else all night, I was just sitting alone in a chair, putting my cigarette to my red lips, looking for you in the ever evolving sea of people. You approached a group I was in and the conversation leaned toward things I never really gave thought to. We talked and I gravitated toward you all night like the moon around the earth. You had me on the edge of every word that left your mouth that night. We were outside, talking about cameras and film, foreign places we want to visit, and places we want to live. I looked up and the stars haven’t shined so bright since I moved to this god forsaken town. As my room mates were stumbling out of the house looking for me, I knew it was time to leave. I tried to drag out my time with you since I had no idea if I would ever see you again, secretly hoping I would. As I was about to leave you asked me for my number so you could let me know if the photo you took with your converted Holga camera turned out or not. I was so excited, but I tried to not let it show, not for the photograph you took of me, but because you asked me for my number in general. I remember walking away that night, with a feeling that was even more lively than butterflies in my stomach.