[ 1 2 3 ]	What Could Have Been by Dana Kaye I was captivated by the girl in the corner, the one with the short blond hair that looked up from her beer periodically to send smiles my way, the one who was laughing with her friends and speaking Czech. I wanted nothing more than to talk to her. I could have gone over there. I could have asked her if she spoke English. She could have answered, “Yes, I do,” with the loveliest of accents. She could have asked me to sit with her, twirling her locks around her finger. We could have danced that night, to the DJ spinning a slow jam. She could have run her fingers down the small of my back, making my knees weak. We could have kissed, setting off enough sparks to set the building on fire. We could have left the club that night, gone back to her place. We could have danced in the living room, between sips of red wine. We could have made love that night, our bodies melting together in a never-ending sea of milky white. When we were finished, she could have smoked a cigarette, naked, seductively blowing smoke in my face. I could have fed her oranges, letting the juice spill onto her bare skin. We could have adjourned to her bedroom, where we could have fallen asleep spooning. We could have risen at daylight, smiling, basking in how natural it felt to be together. We could have wanted to stay in bed forever. She could have asked me when she’d see me again. I could have told her that I leave in a week. She could have exclaimed in joy, saying that she was going to the states in twelve days. I could have asked her where, and she could have said Chicago. And I could have snatched her into my arms, smiling with relief. She could have met my friends, and they could have loved her. They could have nudged my ribs and whispered, “She’s a keeper.”