On the third day after I left for Paris, I had a dream about you.

We were standing on the boardwalk in Coney Island. The sun was setting and you turned to walk away, your arm slung around J's waist in that casual-confident style of yours. You weren't just walking with her, though. She was pulling on you; dragging you away. S was pulling me away in the other direction.
We turned to look at each other. No emotion on our faces. Just staring and staring, neither of us able to look away.