notes to a stranger, part 2
Hello again person with a nice face. I was sitting with my friends the other day. We were talking. Then you came up to us. I saw your imperfectly perfect face like I always do, except this time it was coming towards me. You stood there, clutching the edge of the table. You glanced at me and looked away. You started speaking, I barely listened to what you were asking. I was focusing so much on the sound of your voice, it was quiet, slightly harsh. You spoke hesitantly. I paid close attention to you, making eye contact several times. You kept looking at me and looking away. Do you remember?
You started describing a girl in my class, asking if we'd seen her. One of my friends told you she'd already left. A look of disappointment went over your face and you sighed heavily. You had something you needed to give her. I quickly offered my help, seeing if there was something I could do. You looked at me again. Surprised, shy, relieved. And you passed your task on to me.
You walked away. Out of the 30 words you spoke, only one of them was directed at me. A quick "Thanks." and that was all. I still don't know your name. I still see your face everywhere, and you still don't seem to see me. Somehow hearing your voice has made you more intriguing to me. Even though, there's nothing really special about it. Come to think of it there's nothing really special about your face either. It's a pretty face. It's a face I like. But I don't know if it's a special face.