Behind your back, The polka dots you wore glared at me.

You turned and as I was watching you our eyes met, briefly.

For a millisecond, maybe three. For a year, maybe a million.

The coffee I was holding went cold, long forgotten. Frozen.

I was lost in your eyes, Those endless icy spheres.

Wind stabbed at me as I trudged through them, frostbitten fingers reaching out for warmth.

I knew it would end, as soon as you looked away from me.

But did I really want to leave?  I could get used to this, I thought.

Maybe light a fire in your eyes, live here forever. Perhaps.
And as quickly as it had come , the moment had passed. Wasted.

You were still looking at me. And yet I was here, wherever this was.

No one here save for us. Not a word was said.

Maybe I should’ve asked you where this was, or just said ‘Hey, Cold day’. Anything.

Deadlines, ‘Ill speak in an hour, at daybreak, or maybe tomorrow.’

Months passed. Not a word was said.

For a hundred years we stood there.

I learnt every curve of your face, the sequence of your breathing.

Slowly I fell in love. What was your name, I wondered.

And then one day you left.

You seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if waiting for me to speak.

But you were gone.Now nothing would ever be said.

The moment had passed.

I was still there.

Still content with just standing a little closer to you at the bus stop than is required.

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