It was a dark and stormy night, and your favorite pizza place was closed. It made you miss me. Pizza and bad luck always do. Rain sluiced off your long coat, the one you took from me four years ago and never gave back, the one that still has my favorite lip balm in the inside pocket and my name sewn into the collar. You always touch the stitching when you hang it up, though you rarely notice any more.
You looked suspicious as all hell with your deep hood up in the fuzzy, post-curfew dimness, but that didn’t stop you from hunching your shoulders and drifting past the tungsten lights of a convenience store. You weren’t hiding, just trying to get home after a long, shitty day.