The third person.

Sometimes, I dream of a small house, where I will wait for one person comes back from his office. Sometimes, I crave for a family meal. Sometimes, I think of one person and wish he was mine. But he belonged to another girl so I feel sad about this. Every day, that girl waits for him and cooks herself a meal for him. She is very happy and sometimes I feel jealous of her. But I can't do anything to change this reality because I'm the late person, I'm the third person. C'est la vie.