“Why didn’t you come for me five months ago? Why wasn’t I your first stop?” How can I explain it to her? There are a million words I can choose from, but they all fall flat. Instead, I choose a story. “You have a yellow dress with blue flowers printed on it. It has sleeves like a T-shirt, but it’s low-cut.” Using the pointer fingers on both hands, I demonstrate a deep ‘v’ going down the front of my chest. “It reaches half-way down your thighs, and you look like an angel when you wear it.” Her eyes widen. “I bought that dress last summer.” My heart beats double time. “You were my first stop.”
