You never once let me in.

We’re back here in this small coffee shop, talking about how lonely we are all over again. We survive; I have my friends and my games while you have school and your books. We click, we just do. I know if I didn’t stop myself we could talk until the next morning. I know that there isn’t anything that we can’t talk about.

This week, we talk about our comic book crushes. It’s actually quite pathetic of me, especially when I know that I just really want you. I make a game out of it. I try to hide behind irreverence and irony, it’s never been a secret who my favourite character is and how you two are so much alike. You seem so serious about yours though. I’m jealous, that’s how pathetic I am, jealous of a fictional character.

I take a photo of you, like I do every week. I say it’s for a collection. Every week I take a photo to remind myself to ask you out. I never do, so we stay friends. I’ve got an entire folder of prints; all of you, all taken inside this cafe that we call our own. I don’t know why I keep reminders of my fear and failure but they’re still you.

Another day passes, another week passes, another chance passes, another moment with you passes.

As you stand to leave I finally blurt out, “Same time next week?”

You smile and say, “Sure.”