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Billie

As I waited for the waiter to bring my to-go box, he walked into the restaurant with confidence and purpose. In a denim shirt tucked into denim jeans, I briefly recognized his goatee and happy go lucky eyes. I noticed the small brunette by his side and quickly dismissed the lanky, graying man trailing them.

The brunette made me pause and take a second look. Moments before they sat three tables away it hit me. My eyes bulged, my heart raced, and my companion demanded an explanation. There was only one explanation, and only two words to describe it: Billie Sauer.

The Sauer family had grown up with my family. We all attended the same church in a small town, and all of the children played together. Billie was the youngest of the Sauer clan, though a handful of years older than me.

My friends and I would sit near the back of the church in the "high school row," designed to get us away from our parents and distract each other as much as possible. On the opposite side of the aisle and three rows back we would flush and swoon at his presence.

He had once brought his van to a fund raising car wash. Not only did he jump out and help us scrub his vehicle, he expedited the process by using a wire bristle brush.

He was the cutest thing to ever enter that church, hands down.

I had not seen him in years, but I could tell that time had not changed him much even as I ogled the back of his head. I stood, excited, and walked up to his table. I passed by with nary a glance, knowing I may never see him again.