Perennial

He lost her at the music festival. Of course, that's where he'd found her too, so his friends tried to tell him it wasn't such a great loss. But what did they know? They hadn't felt it.

She had long hair, the color of a dirty beach, but in a good way. He'd touched it, imagining wiggling his toes in the Galveston sand, and that's when she noticed him. But she didn't get mad. She just laughed and said, "Dinah."

They spent the rest of the day together, trekking from band to band, crowd to crowd. She shared her funnel cake. He bought them hot dogs, then got mustard on her skirt and didn't tell her.

They made out next to an older couple who cheered and a group of middle school girls who alternately snickered and stared with jealousy. She put her hand in the small of his back and pulled him closer. He'd never experienced that before. He was always the one who wanted more.

It was almost dark when she said she needed to go to the bathroom. "Too many beers," she said with a weak laugh. She smiled politely and slipped away.

He stood by a tree and waited for her to come back. He was riding on Cloud Nine. She was perfect.

An hour later, she hadn't returned. He didn't want to leave the tree, but surely the line couldn't have been that long...

His friends laughed when they found him in front of the girls' restroom, peering anxiously every time someone came out. They called him a fool. "It was just a fling, man." "Don't you know you're not supposed to get attached?" "Obviously she did!" Ha ha ha.

But they didn't understand. Dinah was perfect. And he was going to find her.