She stepped into the barroom, I was sipping on my milk.
One of us in the wrong place, her voice like faded silk.
She said, ” I’m pretty sure I know you.” I said, “Yes your name is Sage.”
“I knew you when I was younger, when red hair was all the rage.”
She smiled but looked distant, no clear details to recall.
I left her on that barstool, not going back and that is all.