I closed my eyes in reverie. I remember that twinkle in her eyes, that impish grin. I remember her smooth skin, so soft to the touch. I remember her straddling my hips, a blissful look on her face as she panted, and I drew ragged breaths as we rode on into the night. And I remembered her laughing afterwards, the most natural laughter as I said something witty.

Our meeting was only mere days ago. Yet my memories of her are so vivid. But I'm not the type to live in the past. I yearn to make new memories, memories as powerful as the night we met. So I contacted her.

I looked down at my phone. It's been two days now since I texted her last. She hadn't responded to my last text, or the one before that. Perhaps she'll get back to me soon. Perhaps she won't.

Perhaps I'll never see her again.

It used to really bother me when I would meet someone, have a wonderful time, then never get to see her again. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? But that's silly. It's not all about me. Sure, I suppose that she might have had to force a smile at the touch of my homely carcass. Maybe she thought I was boorish, perhaps I was too rough. But maybe she decided that doing this just wasn't for her. Perhaps she got a better offer than mine. Perhaps her real life got in the way. In any case, there might be so many reasons. One thing's for certain, I might never know why.

What I do know, though, is that we had that one wonderful night. One time, one meeting. Never to be repeated again, because the stars would be aligned differently. Hey, you never know. Maybe on another day, our meeting might well have been... ordinary. But knowing her, probably not.

No, I'm not the type to live in the past. But I'm trying to strive to live in the present, to savor every moment as I live it. To suck the marrow out of every feast, because life is the most sumptuous repast, if you choose to see it.

And I try to cultivate sweet hope, for the future. Because I have those memories. And I always hope to make more.