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We sometimes leave our memories in places almost forgotten. Shy hearts reaching out for the first time in empty parking lots. Innocence lost behind a tree of a sleeping neighborhood. The faces change, there are always  different people, new characters but the story is always the same. We fall in love and we leave pieces of ourselves behind. No one knows where but we all can understand why. Because we all feel love and fear and happiness and sadness. Because we are alive. 

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Part I:

He does this thing where he stomps his left foot. Never his right,  but always his left. 

It is always when we are in the car after we had parked. We unfasten our seat belts and I look at him. His eyes meet mine for a second and then stomp. He quickly looks away. 

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Stomp your left foot."

"I do that?"

"Yes."

"Didn't know that."

Stomp.

He gets out of the car before I can point out that he did it again. 


At our next stop, I try again because I'm not the type to let things go that quickly. 

"Do you do it when you're angry?"

"No."

"When you're secretly sad?"

"No."

"Because I'm annoying you?"

"Maybe."

"Oh."

I sink into the seat, feeling awful about myself. If I was annoying him, he should have told me sooner. I didn't realize that I was such a bother. 

My moment of self-loathing was interrupted with a "You're stupid."

I jerk my head up, upset that he would rub more salt onto my wound. "Well, I'm sorry for being annoying and stupid."

He sighs. 

"Really want to know why I stomp my foot?"

"No. Don't care anymore. You're mean."

"Just listen."

"No."

"I was-"

"No."

"-nervous."

"What?"

"I said I was nervous."

"About what?"

"Just nervous."

I look over at him to see that his eyes had fell to the ground. He's nervous. But I'm not. Somehow, sometime, somewhere, I found some courage. I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

"You're so cute."