The Queen and I...

I saw her across the street and I smiled, and when she smiled back, I stopped to appreciate that moment. I spent years waving to imaginary friends, standing on the corner, checking my watch, feigning anger toward my late make-believe chum. I've used so many fake minutes talking on broken cell phones to invisible voices, laughing at hilarious invisible jokes all in an attempt to prove to the world Paul-David de Phindior is normal. So when I saw her across the street, I smiled, and when she smiled back, I stopped to appreciate that moment.

We had both just come from work so still in our uniforms. Black pants and white shirts seem to be all the rage in customer service fashion. I, a waiter, and she, a Jersey City Dairy Queen shift manager laughed at our reflection captured in a building's mirrored window. "Twins," she said. But I thought more like the couple visiting New York City, dressed in a cookie-cutter manner.

We went to the park...dogs love the park. We sat on a bench for hours. Squirrels we saw, but no Lil'Bit. We grabbed a burger and shake and past a man walking his beagle. Kristina didn't even look at the dog. Too painful? Perhaps, but maybe she chooses to grieve quietly, calling no attention to her strife.

The date ended, I mean the day ended once again, sadly, empty handed until I walked her home, to the door on Bowery and she placed her hand in mine.

As I walked to my home and past couples and friends waving to each other and holding hands with each other on the street, I didn't feel jealous because even though I was walking home alone, my hand was still warm...and I appreciated that moment.