Our schedules are in sync lately. We keep running into each other during the morning commute. I was hoping that her reason for leaving earlier these days meant she wanted time before checking into the office, to sit and have a sip in the park across the street from our respective work places. But I haven't seen her there.
Yet.
I know she sees me, our eyes meet, hers sparkle. I hope mine do the same. Yet, she gives nothing more away. I'm reluctant to do much more than smile, nod. It is the bus and even the friendliest of conversations are awkward on the bus. Especially our bus. Too many school children free-ranging their way to school. At least, hopefully, school is the eventual destination.
Two weeks. I get off two stops ahead so I could get in extra steps, go get coffee and then to the park to sit, sip, and think. I know she can see me from her office, I don't know that she cares, I think she does, I hope she does. I don't know why I'm not more forward. Yes, I do.
Hurt. Fear. Wrong.
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And thus ends the snippets of a re-curring dream, the snippets culled together to form a narrative. Is it just a story? Or more?
Welcome to Monday.
Random questions: How many times do you have to unsubscribe before it "takes"? How many times do you give it before complaining? How long do you give websites you are not so familiar with to load before saying, "F" it and move the frack on, several seconds, one minute, more . . .?
#MicroBlogMonday
Yet.
I know she sees me, our eyes meet, hers sparkle. I hope mine do the same. Yet, she gives nothing more away. I'm reluctant to do much more than smile, nod. It is the bus and even the friendliest of conversations are awkward on the bus. Especially our bus. Too many school children free-ranging their way to school. At least, hopefully, school is the eventual destination.
Two weeks. I get off two stops ahead so I could get in extra steps, go get coffee and then to the park to sit, sip, and think. I know she can see me from her office, I don't know that she cares, I think she does, I hope she does. I don't know why I'm not more forward. Yes, I do.
Hurt. Fear. Wrong.
******************************************************************************
And thus ends the snippets of a re-curring dream, the snippets culled together to form a narrative. Is it just a story? Or more?
Welcome to Monday.
Random questions: How many times do you have to unsubscribe before it "takes"? How many times do you give it before complaining? How long do you give websites you are not so familiar with to load before saying, "F" it and move the frack on, several seconds, one minute, more . . .?
#MicroBlogMonday