Dinner at our Fish Market
     started everything right—
     King Crab and your smile glowing

     as I pretended it was casual. (we both knew it wasn’t).

Then the familiar stroll to Irby’s,
     with a quick pit stop for kisses,
     then—
     settling into familiar rhythms:
       - Blues dropped game five,
       - Lakers followed suit.

Not our night for sports, clearly.

Then back to the Sylvan—
     a little late,
     a little rushed,
     a goodbye that came quicker

     than either of us wanted.

And me—
     probably saying
     the wrong thing
     at the wrong moment…

     again. (not the first time (won't be the last))

But here’s the good part:

We still have tonight.

One more chance—
     to reset the table,
     rewrite the goodbye,
     remember…

     not every step has to land clean
     to get us somewhere worth going.

I fly tomorrow, sure.
But that’s tomorrow.

Tonight’s still ours,
     still unwritten,
     still waiting.

We didn’t win them all yesterday,
     but maybe tonight…

     we win one that matters.