She’s there. I twisted my sweaty palms against my clothes, my heart was palpitating so as my breath, sporadic, my thoughts took a dip into the massacre that was happening in me. She’s at the side of the lift. I was heading into the same direction too, my mind was simulating countless events introspectively.
I walked to her, she said ‘hi’ to me, my heart fluttered, I replied with my best smile with the same greet that she had given me albeit shouldering the anxiety of meeting her. My footsteps were out of pace, the lift arrived, ting, she headed into it, I took the stairs, we exchanged smiles once again before the door closed, reverting back into banality, leaving me with the highlight of the day.
My heart pumped, contracted, surging my arteries with oxygenated blood, but I still felt oxygen deprived, dizzy, anxious. My mind kept buzzing to me that she was standing there, and that I should interact with her in some form or another.
I walked to her, I said ‘hi’, she was with her friends, they stared at me, she greeted me back nonchalantly, I blushed slightly, a faint pink dashed my cheeks, so as hers, we smiled to each other, as if we did not know what to do, or we did know what we should do. My train of thoughts went out of the window, she stepped into the lift, interchanging gaze with each other once again, interrupted by the closing of the doors of the lift.
I caught hold of myself back into me as I was approaching her, I knew that I did not have the guts to look even into her eyes, bashful, shy as I was, too afraid of even looking into her eyes, because I knew if I looked into her, she would know something about me, she would know that I had a crush on her, and she would ostracise me in a way or another.
She was chatting happily with her friends, she did not pay attention to her surroundings, I walked past her, without greeting her. So close, yet so far. My cowardice, led me this far. My eyes was fixated on her even when I chose to take the stairs, she walked into the lift, leaving me with an ordinary day, without us interlocked in an innocent exchange of minute moments of ourselves.
Did she see me? Probably.
Am I an abysmal coward? Yes.