“Kristin is Kristin. A beautiful girl. My first girlfriend and I miss her. But she and I were never meant to be. She was in between boyfriends and was too pretty to go without. I was there like a number in a bakery. She pulled the ticket, glanced at it, and waited to exchange me for some loaf of bread or cake or pie or feeling that she was beautiful. I’m just a sap who adored her and wanted to hold her hand or sit close or look into her eyes. But I gave her the slip. Came right out of her hands before she could claim her prize and I bet you, I bet you a million dollars she doesn’t even remember that number. She’ll just pull another ticket, glance at it, and wait for them to call her out. She won’t remember the things I said and won’t realize I had never said them to another girl. She’d heard them before and it all ran together like bad poetry. You could see it in her eyes when I talked to her. You could hear it in the way she said thank you when I complimented her dress or the color of her eyes. And I suppose if I’m honest with myself, if I’m truly honest, I’d have to say I loved her.” (>>)