Ipod on, breathe out and step into the street. It's 3 am, there's alcohol in my blood and I'm walking home. My periphery is blurring, the streetlights stroll by slowly and my legs are moving faster than they feel. It's cold for summer, though it doesn't surprise me now that I'm back home. In LA, low high 50's is frigid but back home, the chill is refreshing.

I'm walking by the kosher bakery that's changed hands 4 times in 4 years: my God, I've lived here since I was 6 months old. I walked on this street thousands of times. With dogs, with running shoes on, with girlfriends that I disappointed long ago. My God, it's 3 am, I'm drunk and I'm reminiscing about a gray streak of municipal property.

The night has already been odd enough. Tonight, my past came pouring back in the form of a beautiful girl. Mix in old friends, a rough semester and a couple of drinks and my tongue was loose. I didn't know she would be there. She came along with another girl that no one other than the host knew. Why was she here? It wasn't for me. She didn't know anyone else at the party. Why had she come? I never bothered to ask though. She stepped into the room and flashed me a smile. I shot up, stepping over crowded chairs and inebriated friends in order to lazily slip my arms around her waist and say "I missed you."

It was so easy. It had been over a year since we had seen each other, since we pulled over outside my house so she could terminate our budding romance. We had seen each other only twice before as a couple, the shortest relationship I had ever had. Yet, for some reason, I cared about her more than any other girlfriends I've had: before and after. There was something simple and beautiful about her. She was warm. My fingers spent hours tentatively sliding up and down her soft arms. But that was it. We left our love on the side of the road and drove off.

A full year, and here we are in each other's arms. She's smiling at me knowingly, with her head tilted up so she could meet my eyes. What happened with us? Why did I just let her go? I'm either lost in love or lost in alcohol because I never ask her over the course of the night. Rather, we spend most of the night in an embrace, slowly running our hands over each other's arms and legs, playing a year's worth of catch-up. The conversation is superficial, we are going through the motions, both thinking the same thing but too terrified to act. The alcohol is still talking more than I am, but she's been drinking too and so we sit and enjoy each other's intoxicated honesty that is filled with empathy and pity.

She leaves me with a kiss on the cheek and a goodnight. Later, people ask me if we hooked up. I regretfully tell them no. Drunken sympathy ensues. They all saw the sparks and were all anxiously awaiting for something to catch fire, only to be disappointed by the meager light show.

I'm walking home. It's 3 am. I pass the bakery that has changed hands 4 times in 4 years. What's changed since last year? The bakery has a different name but the airy sugar cookies are still the same. I've crossed the nation but I'm still afraid to move ahead. And her. Is she different? Have her feelings changed? Was it really her hand on my arm tonight or have drunken fantasies stepped in to embellish the truth? I don't know, to be honest with you. I never bothered to ask.