The Library

We sit on opposite sides of the room, bent over paperbacks, reading in silence. It is rare that we make eye contact with each other even though I suspect we are both curious. We have gravitated to this place every day for the past two weeks. Each day, we end up inches closer to each other, but still a good distance away.

With bowed heads, I can't tell what you are thinking. As I glance your way, you are intent on your book. I often wonder what it is you're reading. Little did I know that you were stealing the same glances at me and had the same questions.

There's something about the way you're sitting that appeals to me. It is as if you're saying "I'm here, I'm important, and I don't care what you think." Your posture exudes attitude. I find it irresistible, but I'm powerless to do anything more than sneak glances your way.

After reading the same page for the twentieth time, I decide to call it a night. As I rise to leave, I send one more glance your way. I am startled to find that you have already left. I collect my things and head to the elevator. As I approach, I see the doors closing, "hold it, please!" I yelled as quietly as I could. The doors opened to accept me.

As I step in, I find myself looking into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. My secret glances are gone and I find myself staring into those eyes. "Oh, sorry!" as I regain my composure and take my place next to you in the elevator. We ride down to the main floor in silence. I wanted to say something, but couldn't.

You went to the left off the elevator and I went to the right. I was haunted by those eyes all night. I hope you'll be there tomorrow.