I think we’ve met before.
It was winter, and December was everywhere but here. I am paper snowflakes on a window. You are wandering into a secondhand bookstore, and my name is a character on the third book you pick up.
It was April and it was raining universes. There’s a picture show in black in white. I know I want a cherry coke and sour patch kids. You’re buying popcorn and chocolate for another girl you’re in love with.
It was eight days into September. Leaves are falling like love notes. I keep making lists so I don’t forget things. You find my scarf on a park bench and deliver it to the lost and found.
A scribbler // We’ve Met Before