Last Saturday Chris invited me to see his band play at a house show. The air was foggy and dark. He greeted me on the porch, gave me a hug. I asked him how he had been. I don't remember what he said.

He played two songs about me. He didn't look my way, but I know he knew I was there.

We broke away from everyone after the show and walked to a park. We stood on a bridge for a little while, taking swigs from my burnett's and chain smoking my camels. I showed him how I like grinding cigarettes on the side of things and watching the sparks. We threw our butts into the water.

I asked him what was on his mind. Nothing.

We kept on walking. We saw a skatepark and decided to go inside. We climbed to the top of a halfpipe and   sat on the side. We sat in silence for a minute before he moved my hair behind my shoulder and kissed me.

What happened, Chris?

I don't know. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

He held my hand and looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world. So I kissed him back.

We had sex for the first time on that halfpipe. Probably for the last time, too.