When the stranger approaches me at the bar as I’m buying you all another round, he looks me up and down. I know in his eyes he sees me not as one of the guys but as a woman. The woman I look for in the mirror. Perhaps he will see past the parts you all call broken. We talk as I wait for your drinks, he asks for my number. I tell him I don’t know and he gives me his instead.
I live for the bursts of passion that spark through my life like an engine that won't quite catch.