She has forgotten you, schmuck. See her there at the corner, twirling her hair, as absorbed in herself as you are getting there to meet her. She has forgotten your date, in fact, and at this moment crosses the street, touching her own long blond hair as though completing an electrical connection that you are not a part of, that you will never feel.

Slow down, stop, wheeze, hands on knees as you gulp air and watch her walk away so slowly, but too fast for you now.