The Roster

I was flipping through a little notebook I carry around for grocery lists, great ideas, and pan drippings from my friable mind, when I came across directions to Dan's house. They were handwritten in my characteristic distracted scrawl. I was copying them from the Google maps site. I remember.  The words were water-stained --dripped snow probably-- and some of the black had defected to the margins of the drops' ghosts leaving pink skeletons of letters in its wake. But more importantly, when I saw his name my heart sat up.

Dan is a possibility. Not just because he's single and I know him. But, apparently, because I feel some kind of connection and kindness and desire for him. This was news to me. I had always considered him a contrived choice, derived from convenience and a certain Machiavellian calculation I lean to. It hadn't occurred to me that this was this layer of float above my heart where some hope was buoying something that my soul seems to think is a good idea. Or maybe I've just been stifling the desire. He is fifteen years older than me. I'm not quite sure how to approach him. However, I think I might want him. And that lifts me just a little. Just a little