April 25th, 2010. The first day I saw you.
I walk in. You smile. I say, “Hi.” Later on, you showed me the chickens the store just got. You let me pick out some on my own. I hold one for too long and I feel something wet where the baby chicken is resting in my hands. Perfect. You walk in at that time. I hold up my hand and say, “Beautiful.”

You reply, “Nice.”

“I’ll get you a napkin…” You leave.

You come back.

You put the napkin and germ-x next to me.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Yep,” You answer. I clean my hand. I pick out two chickens. Together we put them in a box and close it. Then we say good bye.

It’s been three years since that day. I still see you. We talk sometimes. I really like you. And I still remember that day. But I don’t think you do.