10/19/12

Missed Connection
By BethAnn Caputo


I was drinking a margarita on the rocks when your friend handed me his Nikon and asked me to take a picture. You said you liked my glasses. I told you about that time I threw up on Space Mountain and the summer my dad insisted on wearing a red Speedo. I’m sure you don’t remember, it’s been three years since you last called. We don’t even go out down town anymore and I’ve moved out of New York City. I know it’s a shot in the dark, but if you read this message, please don’t call. I’m not looking to play out some nonsensical fantasy that died a long time ago. I just want you to know that I didn’t even want to go out that night; I wish I stayed in. You’re the only person on earth I’ve ever took pleasure in talking to on the phone and I hate it.


- - -
BethAnn Caputo graduated from Adelphi University with a B.A. in English. She has taught Creative Writing classes in Ireland and now lives and writes in Flagstaff, AZ.