stuffy rooms

She is married now. 

And so am I.

Both very much happy.

Very content.

Well, as much as adulthood can make one so.

Both of us fluttering around the soft thoughts of having children soon.

Starting a family.

"Settling down" as her father would often say after a glass of Beaujolais or a cigarette.

I do find it funny though.

How years later when we find ourselves in the same stuffy rooms at these work events or reunions.

All those distant yet faintly familiar feelings return.

The old butterflies. Re-awoken.

And it's there I begin to fantasize. To daydream.

And maybe those dreams will always be.

Maybe I'll always find the color of another life in her eyes as we so gently ask: "how have you been?"

And, as per the script we'll both blink and smile always in polite recognition of what we know to be true.

That it could have been us, settling down.

It could've been us meeting every morning rather than once in a blue moon in those stuffy rooms.