I dreamt of you.
You were sitting by the building’s stairs, not minding the dust and dirt. You were looking at your mismatched sneakers — one of green and white hues, and another of crimson and gold.
I looked at you looking at them intently, wondering what you were wondering about.
Are you thinking of him?
Is he wearing the other mismatched pair?
I tried to talk to you but as with any other dream, talking is difficult. Every form of communication happens in the mind. But you can’t seem to hear my thoughts, and I can’t hear yours. You wouldn’t even look at me.
I should just give you a call when I wake up.
For now, let me just look at you, looking at your worn down mismatched sneakers, probably thinking about him.