Dearest,

I walked past the house that should be yours.  The front was perfect, I knew your room was the one above the garage, it had to be.  I imagined us, you and me, walking the neighborhood, going to the park.  All I would ever need would be right there.  I imagined walking to your house, my legs quickly scissoring down the street, anxious to see you.  I imagine bike rides, in summer, in winter. I imagined walking in the rain, the storm caught us off guard down the street.  Carpooling for cheaper gas, when we both can drive.  I imagined it all, walking past the house that should be yours.