Lorton

Every time i listen to "Sorry" by Maria Mena i'm reminded of this one Friday night toward the end of summer i was at Nectar Wine Lounge.

'Twas a beautiful night. Already chilly in California. The air was crisper than a white Gap button-down.

I texted Taylor to say hi, with a smiley. We had broken up. Goodwill is abundant when your bloodstreams have been warmed by wine.

Taylor texted back, "I miss you too."

Sadness can be a rush.

A moment later, i looked up at Burlingame Hotel across the street, and caught sight of a seated female figure on the third floor by the window sill. I imagined she was in town only for the night, not knowing a soul in the vicinity.

I could hardly tell her features in the faint light. But i saw her haunting, hungry eyes. I was reminded of those of Maria de Medeiros', so doll-like and yet pensive that they're paradoxically surreal.

There the wistful stranger stubbornly sat and peered out her window, powerless over her wistfulness.

Aren't we all...