Stories Of You
I remember the day I met you clear as day. We were in Fontainebleau, France. You were sitting next to two girls on my bus, praying though we didn’t know it at the time. You and a few other guys were messing with them and telling them the wrong names, but when I came along, you told me your name right away. The girls were angry in a playful sort of way. We talked some. About Europe and home and music and little things like that. Then you had to go back to Paris and my group was soon to follow. You gave me, only me, your Snapchat before you left and all throughout dinner I thought of you. I wanted to see you again so badly.
Finally, dinner was over and we were headed back to Paris again. A few girls and I were planning on having a photo shoot that night before leaving France, maybe a few stunts as well, but we needed a photographer. I thought of you immediately and texted you, hoping your reply would be yes. It was. You came down to the lobby of the hotel we were staying in. The girls and I had been out on the hotel grounds, messing around and what not. A girl on the grounds offered to take photos for us before you showed up. You came and I was filled with warmth, knowing I got to see you again.
Our photo shoot continued, although you didnt get to be our photographer, and you almost left, but for some reason, you stayed. I enjoyed your company. I one thing I remember very clearly is commenting on your necklace. It was a cross necklace. I found out you believed in God, and we talked about religion. It was a great time.
Finally, the girls and I were finished and we were all headed back to our rooms. I learned that you were on the 17th floor. The elevator at the hotel wasn’t working either. I felt terrible that I had made you come all this way and not totally be a part of the goings on, so I offered to walk up with you.
You made fun of me on the way up. I was out of shape, and we both knew it. But I was content to be with you, even though I’d known you less than a day. We walked up all 17 flights of stairs, even though my room was 3 levels before. I remember standing outside the for to get onto the 17th floor, both of us not wanting to say goodbye yet. I walked down the stairs to my floor slowly, thinking about you.
I have to laugh because later that night, maybe an hour later, you called me. I hate talking on the phone, I’m always so awkward, but with you, it was okay. I wanted to never stop talking to you. I still don’t want to stop talking with you.
I miss you.