Empty Words

She thought about him a lot this past weekend.
She thought about how she thought about him a lot this past weekend.
She thought to tell him when they met.
He said he would come but warned her to not think about it.  She refrained herself from thinking about it.  He had said several times before that he would come.  He would be there for her.  Yet he had broken his words equal to the times he had promised.  She knew better to not believe him. Yet she did.
She imagined how he would show up this time.  How he would assume she ignored his words.  How he would then think he would surprise her.
She imagined if he would call her when he gets there: "I am here".
She imagined if he would just walk up to her and she would look up and see his eyes.
She imagined if she would feel surprised, relieved, loved.
She imagined where they would go for dinner.  The venue didn't matter to her.  She thought they would talk, like before.  Had he changed?  She had changed she knew that.  How about his feelings?  How about the look in his eyes?  What did he have to talk about?  What would he share about his recent experiments in life?  She thought how late they would dine.  Perhaps they would be the last couple leaving.  Perhaps walking for an hour or two afterwards.  Perhaps it would get too cold and they would shelter in each others' warmth.
Perhaps they wouldn't say goodbye this time.
The phone rang.  Her heart stopped for a minuscule moment.  She knew before the hello.
His words were all empty after that.
They were empty before that too.
She thought about her naivete.  She smiled at herself, happy about all her fantasies.  She remembered how she couldn't imagine his eyes.  She remembered how in her dreams he was faceless.  The dreams were all hers.  Nothing of him.  Nothing about him.
Every time she thought about him, she thought "empty".