The week started perfect
    then just kept *insisting*
    on outdoing itself.

Wednesday—trivia at Irby’s,
          CD back from the plague
          like a beloved character

          re-entering the season.

So I slid in with the crew—

Blaschke, Phillip, Lizzy—
          we went to war,
          laughing between questions

          like that counts as strategy.

Third place.

With that many teams,
     that’s basically a medal
            if you squint. (Which I do.)

Then the real win—
     just as trivia ended
     and the room started thinning out…

Mari.

Just *appeared*,
     like the night had been saving
             its best line for last.

We closed the place down,
   the others peeled off,
      and it was just us,
      the last-call glow,
     and that feeling of
     “oh—there you are.”

A kiss—perfectly right-sized.

Not a headline.

Not a goodbye speech.

Just enough
     to carry me back to Sylvan

     with my smile still lit.

I tried to write it down,
              on napkins,
        like I always do—

but the time wasn’t right.

Today is right.

Friday the 13th?
Not even a little bit scared.
I’m actually… ahead of the curse.

Because this afternoon—

        I’m heading to DeKalb
        to pick up my Valentine.

        Four legs,
             borrowed time,
                      soft eyes,
        and the weekend mission:

Irby’s patio becomes home base,
       treats become diplomacy,
 and every person who walks in
    gets one chance to realize
what a “forever” can look like
             when it’s wagging.

I’ll keep her near,
I’ll keep her seen,
I’ll keep the vibe easy—

Hoping somebody (the right somebody)
       falls in love the right way,
       and leaves with a new best friend

       and a full heart.

Will Mari stop by?
Probably.

Coal?
I hope he signs off.

And if the universe wants
    to keep this streak going—

I’ll be right here,
     under the patio lights,
     living proof…

     some Fridays don’t curse you.

Some Fridays choose you.