She might be coming to my place tomorrow. I’ve been to her place twice now. She has a beautiful apartment but no couch and the furniture is kind of random. The best place to sit and talk would be the bed, and she invited me there on my next visit. But I invited her to my place anyway. It’s been mostly sweet and happy between us. She feels the same slender and strong but the kisses feel fragile. Has it really been 30 years? It has. In some ways it shows but in others we are both the same 20-something kids we left behind. Remembering now the dynamic of how we virtually always met at her place. I know she came to my place at least twice, but she has virtually zero memory of those encounters. My place was a dismal SRO with shared bathroom down the hall. Hers was a more comfortable, albeit illegal, loft SRO. I wish we had pictures of that room. We have pictures of my room but they summon no memories for her. I remember things about her room, including the mirror next to the bed. I thought that was so cool, so hot, watching each other like that. I also remember strings of Christmas tree lights, which are present in her current place. She does not remember if such lights were present at her earlier place. But it’s not about memories now. This almost feels like there is a future.