Chance Meetings

I had two tonight. Leaving a bar on 1st Ave in the East Village, Kara and I stopped to smoke before heading our separate ways. And who should approach minutes later but the two freaks from the bathroom last weekend. "Why didn't you call me, you bitch?" "Bitch? Because you called me a bitch." A few minutes after she asked me for a clove, she apologized for calling me a bitch. "I took no offense," I said. And why would I? Your words mean to me as much as you do. She soon encouraged us to attend her masquerade party in a few weeks. Yeah, ok, I'll be there. I was leaning against a tree because I had consumed the perfect combination of tequila and beer. I just needed a little support. Kara and I looked at each other, and as she buttoned up my coat for me, I leaned in and told her to act like she was my girlfriend. I imagine buttoning my coat was good cover enough. And then, "Are you two dating?" Fucking hell. "Yes. It's new." They soon bid their farewells and walked away, headed to Karma, the place with the dangerous bathroom. I did manage to have a positive chance meeting earlier in the evening. I went outside to call Kara to tell her I'd meet her inside. I was out there for 34 seconds and at around the second ring, Steve, my friend from the F train, turned the corner. We haven't seen each other in a few weeks and I hugged him tight. Safety.