Brian was sitting at the kitchen table when he heard the knocking. His head was in his hands. A chipped and cracked saucer overflowed with cigarette butts next to the salt shaker and his coffee was cold.
“WHAT?!” he hollered. “I don’t want any.”
The door opened a crack and Amy peeked in, “Jeeze, Brian. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
He rubbed his hand over his face, “Sorry, Aim. Come on in. There might be some coffee if you want any.”
Amy moved over to the coffee pot, lifted it, and eyeballed the thick black sludge it contained. She thought better of having a cup put it back on the burner before moving to the table. Sitting down, she tucked her curly brown hair behind her ears and pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“Musta been some chick.” She said. “Look at you; sitting all broken up and morose-like in the kitchen. You don’t look to be dressed for church either.”
He looked down at himself. She had a point; Y-fronts and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. His black socks sagging around his ankles.
“So, what’s the problem, Brian?” she asked.
“I met this girl last night at Slims.”
Slims, Amy knew, was a high priced night club just off Highway 17 at the edge of town.
“She was beautiful, I think. Tall, thin, dark hair, light brown skin… I only got a quick look at her before the match went out.”
He dropped his forearms on the table top and looked at Amy, his face a mask of anguish and regret.
“So she passed the match test,” Amy said cheerfully, “That’s great. Why so sad?”
“I was out of matches. She faded back into the crowd and I lost her. That’s the story of my life Aim, missed opportunities!”
“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Missed Opportunities – W4M
You’re the tall, beautiful man who smokes too much, doesn’t know how to dress and is always chasing dreams that continually elude him.
I’m the short girl with glasses and curly brown hair whose shoulder you continually want to cry on. Come to your senses and stop chasing unicorns, I’m still here. But don’t wait too long lest you allow still another opportunity to slip through your fingers.