Angie! Angie! Angie!
When I looked down Ninth Street last weekend and spotted copies of this flyer stapled and taped to nearly every utility pole, I started singing to myself:
All the dreams we held so close seemed to all go up in smoke,
Let me whisper in your ear ...
But unlike Mick Jagger, this flyer doesn't whisper; it screams.
Of lost opportunity and embarrassment.
Of desperation and regret.
When will those clouds all disappear?
I don't know if Angie ever forgave this guy. Or if he forgave himself.
Where will it lead us from here?