The Purple Grape Thurs 9/24
I saw you sitting at the wine bar. I was the guy on the other end scribbling in my notebook. We traded glances a few times before your loud and overly tanned date showed up. You looked sad when he put his hand on your back and escorted you out. It felt like we had a moment, am I wrong? Maybe we could get together for dinner and drinks. Your brown-haired friend at the bar knows how to reach me.