Still, I stalked you. I ran names and TV shows into your Google bar. I tried to see the picture of the disgusting parasite that my Anguillan massage therapist picked up on an anthropological dig in Belize. I tried to find the name of my hotel neighbor, a camera operator on Deadliest Catch and a guy that happened to make a catch of his own when he peeked over our balcony at an inopportune moment. I checked my email, searched for flights when I was bumped from others and generally counted on you to be the force to be reckoned with, the calm, strong, silent one when all I wanted to do was reach across the counter and strangle the pregnant Puerto Rican ticket agent for sucky Spirit Airlines who was chewing ice and telling me in her shitty accent, "Too bad. We have no more seats. Someone cancelled your reservation. You are not een the system no more. from what I see- you do not ex-eest."
Yes, I do. I am right here.