Cool girl

As I tried not to let the door hit me on the way out, a strange thought surfaced, as though a glimpse of five years from now sat me down: she was the type of friend to lecture you on being more confident as she applied lipstick on your lips before telling you to dab them against a Kleenex. Then matter-of-factly, tells you that you are perfect as they come.

Maybe we weren’t meant to be friends. Maybe our exchange was fated to stay suspended in the ether before plunging into my subconscious. Or at best, companions in a public space out of happenstance. I reversed out of the​ parking stall, feeling copacetic about never seeing her again.