I’ll be wearing sneakers and my hair will be wavy from whatever water I jumped in that day. You’ll be in a tank top smoking a cigarette and I will pretend the smoke doesn’t bother me. We’ll be sitting on steps and the moon and the porch light will work together to perfectly illuminate our best features. Initially there will be silence. Then one of us will clear our throats and say something trivial yet funny. The awkward tension will loosen like my lungs do with each breath of that summer air. I will find the courage to say that I have missed you. The second the words leave my lips I will have wished I could have sucked them back in. As always you’ll be graceful and smile. I will turn my head inward and my stomach will start to turn in knots. The silence will return and after a big sigh you will say “It’s good to see you again.” I’ll find a way to pick it all apart and dissect every pitch and level of your voice to gauge your sincerity. Then I will remember it will do no good. Words are words when they leave your mouth. We’ll smile at each other and with nothing left to say I will find myself walking away.