No Match for a Mud Puddle
We met at the employee Christmas party at a place where I didn’t work. Open bar. We traded lipstick colors and a kiss. Later, we went on a sprawling epic of a date: pingpong, Louisiana swamp at night (no flashlight), roller skating, gas station wine and ooey-gooey cake. I moved out of state and lost June’s number when my flip phone drowned in a mud puddle. We completely lost touch, but I never forgot her. Six years later, I moved back to New Orleans and walked into a bar. There June was. Turns out, she never forgot me either. — Amanda Casassa