He loves me
I keep telling myself I’m over Henry, but I just don’t have the energy to dance tonight.
He smiles and doesn’t bother to ask permission before sliding into the seat beside me. I don’t notice… Until he passes my refilled Martini across the bar, clinking it with his own.
He loves me not
We talk for hours, mostly nonsense. For a moment, everything is perfect; because I know I won’t remember his name in the morning.
