I have written so many versions of us. There is a version where I go to your Halloween Party that night and drink just enough to sit next to you on the couch, and we inch closer and closer together, emboldened by the thought of us, until, at last, I rest my head on your shoulder, and settle into you for the rest of my life.

But we both know I didn’t go and I didn’t know that night was the last chance at the chance of us.