She'd scribbled descriptions of all the articles on post-its behind the postcards and photographs. There was one paper napkin she'd saved from our visit to Lori's Diner. Neatly folded and as white even after being mothballed in the yellow manila for more than two years now. That evening at Lori's Diner we ordered one banana split, which, when it arrived, had us gasping.
It was a very big banana.
And then there were these unused BART tickets that she never used. Just so I could save them as memories. All this prompted me to shoot off an e-mail to her. As I waited for a reply, I thought about the last evening we spent sitting on abandoned railroad tracks facing a lake.
"Why didn't I meet you in school?"
"Yeah, that would have been nice. You'd have been this tall girl two classes my senior, on whom I'd have had a crush. And we could have gone biking in abandoned wastelands."
"Why abandoned? Why not on streets with cars? Or people?"
"Then I wouldn't have to share you with anybody else's gaze. I could watch you in peace."
"Oks, let it be abandoned wastelands then."
We didn't speak for a long time after that. She was dropping me to the airport that night and I still hadn't packed.
I didn't get a reply to my e-mail the next day. The message came back saying there were permanent, fatal errors with the address.