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"He doesn't know what he's missing..." She told me in the darkness of the nightclub. She was wearing something cute and revealing and was well on her way to drunk. The "He" that she mentioned is her new flame, and spending the weekend in Chicago. She seems to have a cosmic connection with him, in fact I've never seen her happier in the seven years I've known her. We've been close friends for a long time, seen each other through some of the roughest times, seen more fucked up shit, and straight up lived more than most people I know who are ten years older than we are.
The throbbing techno of the club, along with the beer she places in my hand, brings me back to reality and I marvel at her as she dances in front of me. I always did like that top, and her passion for her new man makes her move in ways that are driving me crazy. I've been in love with her for years. I remember nights spent watching her sleep after a night of heavy drinking, wishing I could lay next to her and feel her breath on my cheek...
Reality comes back to me again, like coming back from an acid trip, and I look into those huge eyes of hers. "He doesn't know what he's missing", she says. I know exactly what he's missing, and I don't know what's worse.

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