Solo

Times like these I hate going on trips for work
I like eating at local hotspots
So that means I look at where the locals go by the number of people
On the patio
Sitting on tables
Then, there’s just me
Still a number
Still me
Solo
“Party of one”, I squeak at the host
And they tell me to go to the bar
Or to wait fifteen minutes
Because
Maybe the place is too crowded for just one
Would it be better if I had said
“Party of me and my phone?”

Solo never bothered me before
I was fine being independent
I was fine
But now is different

When friends are scattered across continents
When I have to cross oceans or seas or lakes and rivers to see family
Solo stinks
Single stings
I could use some crowd in this tiny table they put me in
That empty seat across from me is jarring
I know someone who would have fit perfectly in it

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