Dwelling

He didn’t think much anymore, but when he did, he thought of her. How funny it was, he thought, how such a small moment of his time, took up so much room within his mind. How a brief, firecracker, lighting strike, and hummingbird afternoon caused more contemplation than all of his other responsibilities. She was cute though, really cute, so it made a little bit of sense.

He thought about what she thought, and about what she thought of him. They shared an afternoon coffee together, but where the split happened, he wasn’t sure. Was it just some fun for her, or did she not enjoy herself enough to warrant more than just a polite fading away? He wondered if her mind would change if she knew his side. If the context of them was explained more, would she change her mind? He couldn’t know for sure, and probably never would, but he wrote what happened down as he wanted to.

“I thought you were the cutest thing, and I don’t know what compulsion came over me that day I saw you walking in the hallway, but I had to ask you, for something, for anything. I just had to. I was almost embarrassed of how much I liked you before I even knew you, but I suppose my imagination was a little bit to blame for that.

I don’t know if you said yes because you wanted to, or if you were just being kind, but regardless of my script failing, and my voice wailing, you and I had an accord over coffee, and that was all I’d ever wanted.

When we set a date, I knew I was taking a risk. That coffee shop can only sit 44 people, and my biggest fear was that you and I would be 45 and 46. I had no choice but to take caution, to prepare, and to get there an hour early. I got there an hour early not for any particular reason other than to make sure we had somewhere to sit. I remember the minutes before you came; I was packed, trying to find some subtle way to hide the fact I had spent a lot of time there already. I wasn’t sure what clues you’d find, like the already empty coffee mug, the backpack with the laptop charger hanging out the zipper, or the melted snow dripping off of my coat, but you walked in, and my mind emptied except for a small guess at what kind of flowers you like.

I will never know what you thought of me that day. If those adorable laughs were genuine, or again, just kind…but I can say for certain, that I thought it was average. The perfect average, the amount of average that helped me see what kind of person you are but left me wanting to know more. I had a microscopic amount of coffee left when you walked in, but I made it last a whole three hours before I decided I had asked you enough for a day. Now, months later, I only wonder how things would’ve gone if I had a full cup.

Our conversation was good, but I’m sorry if I talked too much. I suppose I just wanted to fill the silence, and I’m not very good at that because I spend a lot of time in silence. I can only remember a few of the conversations that flew over those two and a half feet between us; there was the one about Oreos for breakfast, how I accidently came into this world, and trying to remember what the name for Samoas was. Despite the fogginess of what was said, I can say without question, that hearing you talk was the best part of my Saturday, and that you were, by far, the cutest thing I have ever seen.

Regardless, here we are, amounting to nothing more than a friendly, but forced, smile when we cross paths, and that’s fine. The only regret, the only qualm I have, is that I didn’t get the chance to know you more, to listen to your voice once more. I don’t know where the inertia failed, if it was something I said, or did, or even something I didn’t do. I will never be upset about the incident, but rather glad that we spent any time at all together. Although your company was short lived, our accord was met, and I thank you for that.”

He missed his mark, but for all intents and purposes, it was good enough.


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