She was out of my league and I was told so by everyone I knew. I didn’t care. They told me that she was no good and would do me wrong. I didn’t care. So I ventured up to her in the bar and told her how I felt. She didn’t care.

Years later I saw her walking down the street. She had gained weight. Her hair was a mess. I wondered if she was homeless. As I approached I saw her vacant meth-induced stare. I said hi and that it was good to see her. She still didn’t care.