The clock struck midnight, and the moon cast a gentle glow through the window of Lucas’ living room. I lay restlessly on the couch, tossing and turning for the right position. My mind was consumed by memories of Timothy of all things.
His words at the restaurant flooded back to me. He called me inspiring and compassionate, two words I’d never heard go alongside my name. I found myself reaching for my phone, tempted to call him, but I hesitated.
Even if I was insane enough, calling Timothy was not a good idea. Parting ways at the restaurant had felt like a breakup for a relationship that never happened. With the solitude of the night, the nostalgia of it crept in, tugging at my heartstrings.
His bright eyes, so filled with regret as he stared down at me when I said I’d keep in touch. He
