You keep telling yourself that. You keep looking at the purse next to you that she left behind. But it’s been over half an hour. For a second, you consider leaving her purse here and going outside to see where she went. But you can’t leave it here. She needs to return, and you want to make sure you don’t miss her. So you take the small, black purse and walk past the crowd at the bar. When you first stand up, your head feels light. You balance yourself and suddenly realize those Long Island Iced Teas have done a number on you. Am I drunk? No, of course not. You won’t admit that you are, anyway. You look around for the blonde hair but you don’t see her. You make it outside and find yourself on a sidewalk with a few smoking strangers that don’t look anything like Jasmine. “You see a blonde recently?” Smoker number one just looks at you, while smoker number two shakes his head. The big guy who doesn’t need to be wearing his leather coat stares straight ahead, either deaf or oblivious.
