Will-o’-Wisp

I know you first as a breeze passing by my shoulder. I’m caught in the scent of you: a fresh spring of sweat pressed close against the grease of the food court. My nose follows the smell, and I catch sight of you passing by. I see you take your place at the end of the line at Little Tokyo. From the way you stare dedicated and focused on the menu overhead, I know you didn’t mean to catch my …

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