Don't Call Jason

     The name of Garrett's girlfriend reminds me of a woman who is a look-a-like of me, but isn't. Lost her data info on the Kindle screen. No, no. Couldn't find her info on the iPad and MacBook Pro. The Internet. Instead, while searching for her info on the MacBook Pro on a midweek night I accidentally came across his home address and phone number in the white pages. I wouldn't dare call him. He may not be friendly. I might feel disappointed at his coldness. Jason. Don't call him. A psychological nightmare. 

     Had you ever had one of those episode in your life? Have you experienced a mind-boggling conversation so scary that your eyes begin to tear? Usually when the opposite sex is not interested in me he will back away and become unresponsive. Not interested? How about simply as 'are we friends'? I shake my head. It doesn't work out that way. Remember. I pick up the telephone and dial Jason's phone number. His line rings. He answers--- 

Jason: Hello.

Sheri: Hi, Jason. It's, Sheri

Jason: I don't know you. 

Sheri: But...

Jason: Don't call.

Sheri: I met you...thought we are...friends.

Jason: I don't know you. Don't call. Stop calling. 

Sheri: Okay.

     Sob. Tears. Cry. "Don't call Jason." End of story. A dead beat friendship. Not a brother in the Arts and Media sector in the LA Church of Christ. "What am I going to do?" 

     Life lives on. The tears dry up. I stop crying. No more sobbing. Life lives on. The scars remain and I won't call Garrett.
     Please try.
    Not at his home phone number. Life is too precious for tears. But I do wonder if I could be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of seeing his handsome face within the crowd at his hometown state of Delaware. I picture him walking on the Wilmington streets or standing in line at a store minding his own business. He doesn't notice me or does he? I wonder. But why me? It's a fantasy of continued dreaming.