Phone Number

I'm sitting, drinking black coffee at 11:11 PM. Make a wish. Fuck that. Make a change.

Let's start over. I'm sitting here with some random boy's number scribbled on my hand. He stopped me while I was pumping gas and told me I was beautiful.

"Boyfriend?"

"Not anymore." I said, grinning.

"Here's my number. Call me?"

"Hmm." Nope.

The attention was nice, much-needed after the recent plummet in my confidence. Still, I will not resort to picking up boys at gas stations.