Footprints

“We aren’t meant to have everything in a world where anything can go wrong.”

That’s what he told me when he left, balancing a cigarette in his hand, indifference painted across his face, the puff of smoke threatening to distort his features. He had a classy grace about him but the rest of him was a mystery. I didn’t know him. He think he knew me. I wanted to know him. He was set on the fact that he’d had me all figured out. That’s why he left, I think. There was nothing else to figure out. To him, there were no pieces left in my all too simple puzzle. Nothing was wrong, nothing was missing, and that’s exactly what he had been missing. He was not searching for a puzzle piece. He was searching for someone who was as incomplete as he was.
So, he didn’t know and maybe he never will. That his shoes left a mark that day, he left them on my heart.

 

 

 

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