She could tell. He seemed annoyed or disinterested. It was as though she could hear his eyes roll. It was almost as though she could hear how bored he was; she heard it in the sigh that she imagined he exhaled. She didn't blame him, she just wished it was different but it wasn't; she was self-centered and weird, especially after a few beers. Why would she expect him to look at her any differently? It wasn't that long ago that she walked out on his life, their life.
But then he looked at her, the way he used to, the way she was used to, and she began to imagine it in another way. . While he sat there beside her, in the crowded hazy bar, she imagined their future based on the past they already shared. While he spoke to his friend, she pictured herself stretched out in skin, with the growth of their child. The waitress brought their bill. As he stepped up and offered to pay, she remembered his subtle yet obvious way he always protected her. It wasn't as though she was ever in any immediate danger and he knew that but still, he always watched over her, in his silent unobtrusive way. She watched him walk back from the bar, stuffing his wallet into his jeans that always hung a little just below his waist and she imagined his hand wrapped around her side, guiding her to wherever they were going. She had even felt his lips, his love, his presence, holding her, providing for her and the imagined family she thought they might have. She pictured it all, based on the dreams they once shared. There was a time that was theirs, when they had made their dreams real by uttering them, whispering them, into one another's ears. Their vocalized future held them together and she knew he would do everything in his power to make her dreams come true. He was like that and she liked that. He made her feel real again.
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