4

July 4th. I sat on some bridge, among some stupid crowd, watching colors explode and wondering why I was in some new town west of anywhere certain.  Some independence. My phone rang. I saw your name and turned you down. You texted me. You called me "Dearest" and said you missed me. It's weird to think how that may be the last time we talk for awhile. "Dearest Jo," you called me - some last words.  I still want you around. I still kind of hope I'll run into you in some random town and it'll all start over like new. Stranger things have happened, I guess. Some bright-eyed, over-romantic, too young to know life's not all that pretty sort of broad told me that people act indifferent to prove how much they care. What if they if they really just don't care?