Alguien, Alguien Para Mi

I wrote a letter back to my grandparents this morning. Enclosed with it a short story, and sent it off.

Of course, it’s still sitting in the basement, but in my mind it’s sent off.

Today’s bowling scores: 122 and 92.

The cute girl in my bowling class is named Carla, and I heard her speaking Spanish today. She left early because her team only had two bowlers and so they finished their game in twenty-five minutes. She may have smiled at me several times. I’m unsure.

Update on the “Someone” in my phone - I texted the number with “Who are you?” and received a minute later, “I’m Michele. Who are you?” I don’t know any Micheles. What I’m thinking is that it’s the girl who I was trying to make feel better by getting her to dance, the girl who said she sprained her ankle. I think she was a Michele. Only I can’t for the life of me figure out why she’d give me her number.

Seriously, I’m baffled over this. I usually am very good at remembering all things, inebriated or not. Unless she put the number in my phone? If so, why put herself under “Someone”? That’s stupid.