Walk and Talk

He walks in the direction of his choosing, cigarette in hand, lost in his thoughts.

“Well, that could’ve gone better!”

But his mind does not leave it at better, in fact you could have said this, should have done that. There are so many things he would change if he could.

He hits his cigarette, half-burnt already...

But no one can change the past can they? No matter the severity of the mistake, or the time it takes to regret it. It’s not like putting a letter in the mailbox that you have time to take back before 6am the next morning, the impression you give face-to-face is like hitting send on an instant message. You can’t put it back, better to just leave it be and move on.

“So why don’t you move on?”

Difficult to do when you keep reminding me, he replies, dragging his cigarette again.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to remind you if you weren’t so stupid.”

He ignores the rude comment and walks a little faster, still turning the situation over in his mind. It would be different if this was the first time, or the second or third, but once you lose track of the anomalies they cease to be forgiveable and just become fact.

“You’re just not very good at this whole conversation thing, huh? Cat got your tongue? It would probably be better if he pulled it out!”

He shakes his head, but not in disagreement. I mean who says something like that? You thought that was your best choice of words? You thought they’d understand the sarcasm behind your inside joke? These perfect strangers?

He snaps to attention as a car speeds by. You know this neighborhood’s speed limit is 25, he wants to say. But wait, he’s on the main road already, further than he thought. And he was talking to himself again wasn’t he?

“You really should stop doing that.”

Not helping. It’s too easy for him to get lost in his mind, there’s plenty to look at up there. The scenery is fantastic but it’s a maze, and if you’re not paying attention you’ll forget which path got you here. Forget the exit, he’s even looking for the entrance if he can find it. It is fun when there’s nothing else to do, not so fun when he’s supposed to be having a conversation. Because how do you tell someone you’re too busy thinking to listen? That’s just rude.

“Yeah, it really is. Surprise surprise nobody wants to be friends with you... much less anything more.”

Okay, shut it! He silently shouts.

“You wish you could make me.”

Very condescending. His cigarette is out. He stops to light it, and keeps walking.