The one who got away was here all along
When I'm abandoned at a party and find myself in a vulnerable situation, a stranger rescues me. I want to thank him, but I have no memory of his face, only a text telling my housemate that he's a cowboy with a pretty face. That's not a lot to go on.
I've build him up as a fantasy in my head, but when a flirtatious ranch hand makes his interest clear, I have to choose between clinging to a memory, one that's fuzzy at best, and embracing the present.
A real-life cowboy is better than a dream. Right? What if I'm wrong about that?
