I dreamt about you last night.
It was the first time I’d seen you in a while, much longer than I’m accustomed to. You didn’t look different. You had the same eyes and smile.
But they weren’t the same, your smile and eyes and face lit up with happiness. You were, like, glowing. It was strange. I’ve never seen you that happy.
You’d won the lottery. $16 million. You spun a colorful wheel on the Big Spin and it landed on this obscene figure.
I don’t know how I learned about your good luck. Did a mutual friend send me a YouTube clip? Did I actually watch you win on televsion? Was there a mass email? It was probably just chisme.
I was happy for you. I wanted to call, but I didn’t. I just don’t call. I’m passive aggressive like that.
Time passed on in the dream. I didn’t see you or speak to you. How un-dream like.
Soon I learned that you were moving and leaving your current job. You’d be taking your winnings and moving abroad to do the do-gooder work we talked about in our less cynical days.
And I was sad, because now we’d really be far away from each other.