A Shot in the Dark

I felt like shit and his shot in the dark book wasn’t helping. Not only was the story line about a depressed drug addict who at this point in the story was turning her life around but the idea of the book made me think of him. Every turn of the page reminded me that at some point not too long ago he had walked into a book store and whether it was his sole purpose or not, he had bought me a book of which he knew nothing but one in which he saw promise; a shot in the dark he called it. So with every line I envision him in a book store some where in Concord MA diving through hundreds of books looking for the perfect shot in the dark just for me. Perhaps I made it more than it was; may be he just walked in and said “sure, this one has a nice cover” but some how I knew that wasn’t true. The way in which he had described it to me as the book, along with two others, were passed to my hands made me believe it meant more to him. He had asked me twice before I had a chance to start reading it how it was. I hadn’t talked to him in days and it was starting to get to me. He use to call me everyday and with the exception of a short two days over winter break when he didn’t call, I had talked to him for hours everyday since November. Now here in the chill of mid-January, I sat on a friends couch reading a shot in the dark obsessing over the fact that it was Saturday morning and he hadn’t called me since Tuesday night. I saw him Wednesday at my apartment with my roommate who threw herself at him in such an obvious manner it made me physically ill. Then, on Thursday, I was going to see a friend after class and he walked with us. But it wasn’t the same. I missed him, his voice, his ideas, the way we talked until two in the morning about how the universe was created and how small we were. In our last conversation, he told me he felt we should have met at Harvard. I would have been three rows back vigorously typing, and would have absent mindedly commented very insightfully on what the professor had said and he would have been so intrigued that he would have waited to meet me after class. He knew that an amazing relationship would have sparked right then and never ended. Perhaps his subconscious realization had scared him and now he was hiding from me. At any rate, I miss him and I wish he’d call me.