A Long Time Ago

As he came in to the bar, Alex threw a couple quarters into the near-ruined
jukebox, shuffled threw a couple songs and chose a song called Great
Expectations. “Mary, this station is playing every sad song…” He came to the bar
and sat on an ominous stool. “I remember like we were alive…” “What’s your poison?” the bartender asks in a near southern accent, “Just a couple whiskeys…” he replies… “What’s the occasion?” “Expectin’ someone.” “I heard it Sunday morn” from inside of these walls, in a prison cell, where we spent those night.” He was down his first shot when the doors swung. “I saw tail lights last night in a dream ‘bout my first wife… Ev’ry body leaves… but why wouldn’t you…” She had a light glow through the soft, white skin of her body. “Mary, I worried and stalled every night of my life, better safe than making the party.
And I never had a good time, I sat by my bedside, with papers and poetry about Estella. Great expectations, we had the greatest expectations.” Each step from her was in line with the beat of the song, as if she were the guitar itself, trusting and perfectly used. “I’ve been expecting you,” “Long time, wasn’t it like ten years ago since we last met?” Her reply was caught up in chokes from the regret in her reply. “I… I… just wanted to say…” Both of them spoke in perfect unison as they said, “I… love… you…” “Everybody leaves, so why… why wouldn't you?”1