a scene in some story

last night,
sometime between the wine and dine
a lovely stranger asked her,

"what would you do if you had a remote control and you could rewind and fast-foward periods of your life? whatwould you press?"

that drunken question
playing over and over again
like a record skipping
as she's walking along
cracked sidewalks
feeling the after effects of the wine

and she thinks back to when
he said he didn't love her
and what she would do differently
only coming to the conclusion
that perhaps he pressed rewind
during their time,
reminiscing with old flames

she nearly trips as
she approaches the intersection.
glancing down her old street
she hesitates,
desides to keep going
straight ahead