After watching Harry Potter with my parents, I did some driving around tonight. I ended up falling into a Starbucks. It was predictable as a pop song. The crescendo was a hot white mocha that scalded the tip of my tongue just like the night before. Several people from my old high school were there. I didn't recognize a few of them at first. I felt kinda guilty about that for a little bit. Though the feeling was evanescent, it was sharp enough to get me out the door. I wasn't running away, mind you. I just very badly wanted to get out of there. So I finished my Vonnegut and that wretched delight of a mocha and stepped to my car.

On the way to my friend's house, the saddest thought of a smile became bottled up inside my chest. I felt like had done something beautiful but tragic. It's hard and embarrassing to explain. Perhaps I was responsible for the death of the last unicorn? Or maybe you had morphed into a golden statute when I gave you the Midas hug. But that silly sickness evaporated once I got out of the car. After a few rounds of pool, I decided to head home. Then, ineluctably, my arms wrapped around this little glowing mousetrap and told you all about my evening. And now we're friends.