Being the impatient person that he was, he never really liked waiting. He suddenly stopped fidgeting as he noticed her from across the street.
The street lamp seemed brighter with her standing underneath. Like a magic lantern casting pictures on a blank wall, the golden embers of light from the lamp seemed to be playing with her dark, tousled curls, imparting them a bit of their own colour.
She was plain looking, with nothing about her appearance that stood out. Only a minimum of makeup, large dark eyes behind round wire-rimmed glasses. There was a world of character in that face, more than enough to make her fascinating-looking instead of just attractive.
He saw the world in black and white, but she was colour. Not too bright or harsh on the eyes, but subtle - almost pleasing. He still wasn’t quite sure what was attracting him to her.
Maybe it was her aura, or maybe it was the set of deep eyes that had a glint to them that could put stars across the caliginous sky to shame. Those eyes met with his for a brief moment and looked away as if she hadn’t caught him looking at her. But she had.
Her eyes, of the usual black, were perhaps remarkably cold, and she certainly could make her glance fall on one as trenchant and heavy as an axe. But as his eyes connected with hers once again, he could feel the glint in her eyes soften, almost as if the barriers and the coldness she had put up, deliquesced. There was only an indefinable, faint expression of her lips, something stealthy, a smile, not a smile - he could see it, but he couldn’t explain.
He had no clue that staring had always made her feel uneasy, but this was entirely different for her, something she had never known before, making her hold the gaze just a little while longer. And for a moment, it seemed like they were tethered together because that was the only way to stop them from being swept away into the night.
He still wasn’t sure what it was, but he drew closer to her with an air of curiosity. He almost cursed internally in dismay as a cavalcade of cars and buses passed right by, stopping him in his tracks and blocking his view of her. The next moment he knew, she was gone.
She left, despite every fibre of her being imploring her to stay, to say something and ask him if he felt something between them too. But she didn’t, like always. She had always sought refuge in silence, after all. Walking away had invariably been easier for her. She always believed that there was something so tragically beautiful about the words left unsaid. When you say the words, they’re absolute. There are confines to what can happen. But when you don’t, a lot is left to the imagination. There are possibilities. There is hope. There are no boundaries.
The wind was hurtling clumsily by, thrashing through the branches and the tree leaves, whimpering and pleading in the language of another world. As she treaded lightly, crunching beneath her feet the gamboge leaves, the phantom air of something that had been and was changed, was still upon her.
