Dream on

Sometimes, in my head, I can see us sitting on your front step (not mine, because I don’t really have a front step), passing a beer back and forth (okay, maybe I’m the only one drinking) until the sun starts to rise, sharing an iPod and talking about what high school was like.  We never touch, except for the wire connecting us and the occasional brush of your hand on mine, but in my head it is the best of nights.

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