I was caught off guard when you yelled “I like your license plate” while we were both traveling down Fulton St this Friday eve. We spoke quickly, trying to navigate our feelings as well as the rush hour traffic. You, an eco-friendly and street-savvy cyclist, told me how you were from Nashville and that you were a fan of the guitar player who has influenced me in so many ways for the last 16 years of my life. I pulled away from you, desperately looking for a place to park so we might continue our conversation. Just then, tragedy struck. I checked my rear view mirror to find that you had turned down Brooklyn Ave. Gone forever.
Or not? I hope this missed connection finds you well and we might be able to pick up where we left off.
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