Dream or Deja vu a place he was sure he’d never been. A romance and relationship he was convinced never happened yet still, he felt the room, and the perspiration that weighed heavy in the air. Her musk, the mood, the anxious unfamiliarity of what lurked beyond that moment. The late afternoon light and the warming temperature of his heart. The palette; earth tones colliding recklessly with an errant pastel for no discernable reason yet completely natural and pure. He questioned the reality or had he truly lived his best life prior, another journey devoid of the disappointment and regret? Troubled, he inquired within who had invited these women and treasured reveries? This drunken afternoon. Was this cinematic amorous bliss and why?  Why fall in love again? And again?

Glass empty, he gazed through the window as the sun descended beyond the horizon, sobered briefly by his recognition of what is and what was. Squinting, he poured himself another cocktail, smiled, and blew out the candle.