The Writer XIV

Tapas, cocktails and the Lower East Side...life is good.  We spent some of the evening people watching, some if it reminiscing and the rest catching up.  I know this is our last visit for a while because he has classes and his work is always busiest in the warmer months; my heart sinks at the thought of not seeing my friend again for months.  He is only here on a work/student visa and I am already dreading his return to England.  I always hope he falls in love and makes this side of the pond his home.  He knows I would go and visit him but it wouldn't be every month and I can see the stress in his face whenever we discuss if he will go home or stay.  He's not the same person he was when he got here and I don't think he has any interest in reliving his past.  He's an exceptional man and I just have to believe that the right woman will come along and steal his heart.

He paid for dinner and we locked arms as soon as we hit the sidewalk.  I'm doing my best to drink in as much of him as possible without getting distracted by the loudness of the streets.  We cut across the street and peeked into some pubs and bars but we were both tired and not interested in staying out so we weaved through streets making our way back to the hotel while smoking cigarettes.  I already miss him...