Do You Sleep Anymore

They met at the grocery store, both waiting in line to buy Boca burgers and pepper jack cheese. Josh told the girl that she had forgotten the buns and she begged him to hold her spot. He did. She was grateful. Her name was Lisa.

He ran into her again at a coffee shop. Low-fat milk and real sugar, none of that Splenda nonsense. He asked her if she was stalking him and she laughed. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, her brown hair pulled into pigtails. He slipped her his number and said they should get coffee sometime. More coffee, he joked, saluting her with his metal travel mug. She smiled politely and never called.

Weeks later, he saw her at a gas station. She watched him coyly from the cover of a magazine, her lips pale pink and her hand wrapped around the neck of a guitar. A tune tickled the back of his mind: You say I only hear what I want to… So, she was THAT Lisa. It figured that he would hit on a celebrity without realizing it.

Still, it was probably for the best. He always hated that song.

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