Day 6 – You Looking At Me Looking At You, Part 1

Photo cred: Streetwindy

I hurry to get to get to the elevator before it closes. My morning hadn’t gotten off to such a great start, plus it was raining and the buses were running late. One of the heels on my favorite get-out-of-the-door-as-fast-as-I-can pumps, the matte black ones with the pointy toes, broke off as soon as I put them on. To top it off, I’m officially 5 minutes late to a very important practice presentation meeting for the real deal presentation with an investor tomorrow. It feels like I’m in one of those nightmarish movies, the ones where with every step you take your legs get heavier and heavier and your destination gets farther and farther away. Before I can reach the elevator hall, I feel lighter but I also hear harsh flutter of papers scattering and folders falling to the floor. Heat flows in heavy waves up my face as I turn to look behind me and see a trail of papers forming a line a couple of feet away, ending near my feet.

Everyone is either on their way to their offices or standing around, chatting it up with cups of coffee, all looking over at me, but no one helping. I rush to pick up the papers, one by one, all now out of order. Murphy’s Law won’t stop playing in my mind, as I think of all of the possible ways my boss will kill me once I finally arrive to our floor. How did the papers even fall out of my messenger bag anyway? In a momentary break from picking up papers and stuffing them in whatever folder I can, I see that my zipper has broken. Great.

I resume picking up papers, but as I do, a young gentleman around 28 or 29 squats down on one knee to help me. He has on black, circular-framed glasses, with a large tuft of black hair flowing over his eyebrows, dark jeans stretchy enough to allow him to get down on the floor in that manner, and a blue tweed blazer. He’s got a little goatee trying to grow in, as if he hasn’t had access to a razor in a few days, but also as if he’s been trying to grow it for months and this is all he’s got. I want to know which one it is. I shake the thoughts away and begin picking up papers again, feeling the wave of heat move up my cheeks again.

We continue picking up papers in silence until, without either of us realizing it, our hands touch as we reach the last one. I look down at my hand and then up at him, who is already looking at me. When my eyes meet his, all time stops. The sounds from around the building lobby slow down and fade away, leaving just the sound of my heartbeat and both of our breathing. Even those sounds are muffled, reminding me of the moments right after plunging into a deep body of water when the surface stills and you’re just hovering underwater. Calm. Serene.

His eyes are the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen up until this point in my life, and I find myself thinking that I don’t think I ever want to look into any other pairs of eyes except for his ever again. There’s nothing particularly special about them; they’re your basic dark brown irises with black pupils. I can tell he’s got some kind of East Asian background, if it’s not his full background, though, so maybe it’s that. He doesn’t break his gaze either, nor does he remove his hand from mine. All of the morning’s events faded away with the rest of the world, and all I want now is to reside in this moment, for at least a little while. 

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