Second-person

So your Pakistani friends cancel on you. It's alright, because they've had a really long day. But you're not content to stay home another night, so you make plans to do the one thing that you said you wouldn't. And you get to the club before your friends, and grab a drink by yourself. And your friends show up, and you all get really drunk. But who's that with them? You haven't seen her in over a year, and you're feeling the alcohol. You don't know how to react, so you try to avoid her. But she's looking right at you, and you decide to talk to her. And you pretend to be nice to her; but you aren't really pretending, are you? So you think it'll be a gas to get a picture of her and her friends, but she wants a picture with you. And she starts dancing on you, and she looks so good: maybe even better than when you were with her (is that even possible?) And you love the attention, so you start flirting with her. And now you're on the dance floor, and she tells you that she still has feelings for you. But you can't tell her you miss her. You just can't. But you ask her for a friendly kiss on the lips, and she actually gives it to you - almost like the first time you met her. And you promise to send her the pictures the next day.

But the whole time, you're asking yourself "Why? Why is this happening? Why now?" You didn't expect to see her at this club of all places. And she even told you herself, that she doesn't go out that much anymore. And you try talking to your friends, but you're sure that they're sick of hearing your whining. So you get home, but you're almost afraid to go to bed. So you smoke a cigar. A cigar! You don't even like smoking, and those stupid cigars have just been sitting around for months. And you finally go to bed, but you can't sleep. So you get up and send her the stupid pictures. Did it help? It doesn't feel like it, but you manage to sleep. But you still think about her, just when you thought you were over her...