Last words

What is it about that elusive 'last conversation'? What is it about this fleeting idea about one last encounter with that certain someone before you lapse into a lifetime of not talking to them ever again? Why does it seem so necessary? What makes me think that I'll have something new to say, something relevant, something that will wipe away the past couple years and enable us to start over?

What would I even say? I have dreams about it, this fabled last meeting. It happens at a party in Boston that we both just happen to be attending. I'm sitting at a rounded table, in a corner somewhere, talking to someone. In the middle of the conversation, the person just changes into her, and I stop.

I stop.

Even in my dreams I'm speechless. That beautiful face looking at me again, that perfect face with that balances perfectly between a smile and a frown, always keeping me guessing, never knowing what she thinks of me. Why do I keep going back to this image of her, this tormenting, beautiful, familiar yet unknown face?

Is this how I look at myself?