EYE CONTACT
Word Count: 242
He was coming one way; I, the other. I’d crossed a bridge and slowed to a halt at the four-way stop. He roared up about the same time and as drivers always do, we locked eyes.
I knew he had a motorcycle but it took an instant for me to recognize the shaggy hair and beard. A bit of grey that I’m just not used to yet. Did I look years beyond recognition too? But then, my name is stenciled on my car door.
We held that connection for some time. Longer than it takes to say, am I going first or you?
Instead his eyes asked me how I’m doing, and, do you remember?
Mine reply, I’m fine without you now.
Silly. Driving back from grocery shopping and thinking about six years of making love and raging war twenty years ago. Sharing meals and a waterbed. Every day together and of course, every night. I remember how I fell in love with the way you looked when you were sleeping. Black hair thick and shiny. The way your eyelids fluttered when you were dreaming. The way you held me up against you; your body around me like a budding leaf. The only tears I ever saw you cry when Strider died.
We head in different directions, you and I. Moments flashing in a well-edited film of six years of our lives. And yet, we pass and never said hello.
wow. so well-crafted: a story of intense dialogue, with not a word spoken. great shift from “he” to “you”. and the ending paragraph, like a film – and then ending on this huge simple sentence.
Thank you, Dorothee. I wondered about the switch in focus from he to you, and there’s some past to present tense as well, but it is just the way I think (and speak!) naturally, sort of bouncing around between time and space!
i think you capture the bitter yet strangely beautiful transience of human relationships here so beautifully
Thank you so much, Mohini. I really love to delve into and dissect human nature and relationships in particular.