Fate. What if you thought of it that way and simply charged ahead? Maybe that's what you're doing. What is done cannot be undone. What is written cannot be erased. Seems like a better alternative to doubt and anxiety right about now, n'est ce pas?
There's one. Back in quickly, pull forward, back up, slightly forward, and stop. Lock it.
Happiness does not wait. The waiter told you she'd left a note on the table while you were still looking for a parking space. Something unexpectedly drops out inside you. You realize all at once that every friend you've ever known across a lifetime is no longer in your life. You wonder if you are a broken thing while standing in a restaurant beside a young waiter. Defective.
The waiter reminds you that enlightenment is disillusionment. Clarity. That what you see before you now, who you are in this moment, is closer to true than when you walked in here a minute ago harboring romantic notions. You leave him a tip of your own without ever sitting down.
Outside, even the night is cold and distant. It holds you tightly none-the-less but completely without feeling. After a mile of this, you are only a ghost or maybe something even less substantial. You never did make it to Paris, did you?
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