Dear John,

I thought I saw you today.

For a moment, I thought you were back. I thought maybe it had all been a mistake. That this past weekend was a whirlwind of emotions that resulted in some sort of collective hallucination. I thought someone had snapped their fingers, and the nightmare was over. That you were going to walk into the elevator and I was going to smile. That I was going to tell you good morning and then I'd start the conversation for once since I had discovered so many new things about you — things that we could share together.

You could teach me lacrosse. We'd go out to the park every weekend and I would make a fool of myself, always failing to throw the ball properly. Then you would laugh and come up behind me, wrapping your arms around mine, pulling me in close so you could guide my hands as they made the swing.

You might show me your Pez dispenser collection, and I would see how many characters I knew and which ones I've never heard of before. Then you'd offer to watch an old movie or TV show with me so I could learn the names of every one of the dispensers in your collection. We'd settle into a comfy sofa with a bowl of popcorn and snuggle in together since the fall chill is settling upon the city.

You could introduce me to your dog, and I'd show you Ophelia. I'd tell you about how I've never had a dog, but have always wanted one. Maybe you could teach me how to take care of a dog. Maybe we could even get a dog together so you could teach me how to love and care for a canine firsthand.

We'd be able to do all of these things if you would just walk through the elevator door and make the world right again. I would change if you did. I'd be better, stronger. I'd come out of my shell for you if you'd only come back.

But you didn't.

It was just wishful thinking.

That and Michelle. She was to blame for this. If she hadn't asked me about how the weekend went, you wouldn't have been at the forefront of my mind. It was her fault.

"So you didn't see how the game ended?" she asked as we grabbed our morning beverages from the barista. We often walk to work together. She's a real estate agent and her building is only a few blocks from ours.

"I didn't really see any of the game," I lamented, before blowing away the steam from my coffee lid. "I was there for maybe five minutes, if that."

"Aw, well, I think it's sweet you tried to honor him by supporting the team. You could probably make a donation instead if you're not up for watching the games. I'm sure he'd appreciate that." She took a sip of her tea. She was trying an herbal tea this time, and it seemed to work out better for her than the black tea she had previously. After taking a moment to let the warm liquid wash the weekend away, she continued. "You could also just say hi to this Ashlynn next time. I'm sure it might comfort her to meet another person who had such a positive experience with John."

"Yeah, I don't know," I said with a shrug. We stopped at the street, waiting for the crosswalk to turn in our favor. "I'm not sure if that would be true. I mean, what if she's his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend now... Although he didn't break up with her, so I guess she's..."

"Hey, woah," said Michelle with a light laugh before stepping out with the other bleary-eyed office workers as they darted across the road. "First things first, you don't know what her relationship with him was, so let's not waste time on the mental gymnastics needed to figure out what her status with him is now. Second, why does it even matter?"

She grabbed my arm and gently tugged me into an alcove formed between two pillars of a tall glass building. I looked at her to figure out why we had stopped. I thought maybe it was because she didn't want to spill her tea in the hustle and bustle of the populated sidewalk, but one look at her eyes told me that wasn't it. Her artful brows rose to a point on her forehead, while her lips pinched and twisted with a question she didn't seem ready to ask. However, Michelle was not one to hold her tongue for long and soon she gave voice to her concerns.

"Lee, did you have a crush on this guy?"

"I...no," I scoffed, agitated that once again I had to defend your honor because Michelle made an inappropriate link between me and you. "We've been over this, I was not..."

"You weren't seeing him," she interrupted. "That doesn't mean you weren't hoping that maybe someday you would be."

"No," I said firmly, before stepping back out onto the sidewalk and setting myself on course for work. "He was way out of my league. I just... I liked him, in a friend-like sort of way. He was nice to me and he made me smile. I, you know, enjoyed spending time with him. And he was just interested in being friendly with me."

At first she only responded with a hum, her lips tight as she darted out into the flow of foot traffic to follow me. Then, once we made it another block down and paused at a crosswalk, she spoke her mind.

"I won't argue with you about this, but I would like to correct your line of thinking. There aren't leagues. At least not universally defined ones. Don't assume what a person wants. Only thing we can know is what we want."

"How am I ever supposed to trust what someone says," I grumbled, unable to face Michelle, "if I don't have some knowledge of what they want from me?"

As much as I love her, she sometimes thinks she knows everything about me. And because of that, she thinks she understands how I think. But, I know my worth. I've seen it rather clearly in the past and I didn't need Michelle feeding into a ridiculous fantasy that I was on any level you were on, John. That, however, didn't mean we couldn't have been friends, right? We could've been friends, don't you think? Maybe we are friends already?

See, there's that fantasy slipping in again.

"Look, I understand we have some baggage to deal with around trust, but most people in the world aren't Ian."

Just so you know, Ian's my ex. Let's leave it at that. I don't like talking about him.

"That all being said," she continued with a low groan, "take some comfort in knowing you aren't the only one with trust issues. I'm starting to think Kaia is having me do these ridiculous monthly anniversaries to prove I've bought into this relationship. Does she not realize how much aquarium tickets cost? She's getting leery just because I was a little late...again. But this time it was because I was trying to help my grieving friend!"

"Maybe she's worried I'm a threat," I said with a lopsided smile.

"Ha! She hasn't even met you and she already knows you don't play for our team, that's just how straight you are." She laughed, her whole body bouncing with the sound, which almost sent her tea flying into the gentleman in front of us. After she composed herself, she added, "no offense."

"See, there are leagues." I said it with a playful smile, but she still rolled her eyes before proceeding with telling me how her date went.

Eventually, we parted ways, and I stepped into the lobby of Carmichael Tower. I had, until that point, gotten past the cloud that had been hanging over me since I learned about your death a few days ago. However, before I could press the elevator button, I felt that fist of gloom clenching around my heart once again.

If I went in and you didn't, then I could no longer wallow in denial. If you didn't join me on our morning ride up to our offices, then I'd know for certain that you are gone. Because, believe it or not, despite reading your obituary, seeing you in your casket, and watching your family weep when they put you in the ground, none of it felt real. Those things weren't real. They were just anomalies within what had been a typically normal week. However, our lobby, our building, our elevator, these were the things we shared. Maybe we'd only catch each other every once in a while, but they were still ours.

And we didn't see each other every day. So I thought about how maybe, just maybe, I could pretend for a few days more. That we simply missed each other on our way to the elevator. I could imagine that. I could play along for a little while.

But, at some point, I knew it would all become so very, very real.

"Are you going in?"

I looked behind me and the chatty woman was on her phone and eager to get back to her conversation. I thought of stepping aside and waiting a few more minutes for you to appear, but I couldn't risk being late to work, not after an unexpected "doctor's appointment" took me out of work on Friday. So I gave her an apologetic nod and stepped in, shoving myself against the wall by the floor panel, hopeful I might still see you flow in with the rest of the crowd. However, you weren't there, and the doors began to shut. With it, I left my heart waiting there on the floor of the lobby for someone who would never show.

That's when I heard your voice.

"Wait, hold please!"

Without thinking, I slammed my finger on the button that commanded the elevator to retract its doors. The rest of the car groaned, grumbling about how there wasn't any room left. However, I heard your voice in the hearty tones of the man racing to enter. I felt myself willing to dream again, willing to believe in the fantasy, willing to live if you slid in with your vibrant smile and friendly gaze.

"Thank you," huffed a stocky man in a pair of dusty cargo pants and an untucked button down that pulled against his firm torso.

"Don't thank us," mumbled someone. "She's the one that pushed the button."

Whoever had answered must have motioned towards me because the man turned his bright, cheerful eyes directly to my corner of the elevator.

"Well, what do you know?" cheered Quinn with a delightful ring to his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."