Dinner party conversation..

A premature prompt you didn't need for the next line of suggestion; preceded by your line, rehearsed, gone over in your head a hundred times; followed by more of the tiresome same. How many hundred more before you convince yourself it's true? It doesn't make the difference you think it does anyway, because there's no escaping air; especially the sort that hangs between your past and this. And I'll crop up again regardless in some other city, a different name and voice perhaps, a different color eyes. And even that won't make the difference up between your future and the fact that I am the best opportunity you'll ever think you had to lose (and did).