Stranger

I was looking at his face in a way I had never looked at it before. He seemed so different. I almost took him for a stranger.

The night I got to know him in front of that van, I didn’t think we would ever establish any sort of contact. Well, obviously I wasn’t right with that. We ended up having a great time together. First being good friends who would watch TV, eat pizza or take naps on Wednesday afternoons, he finally kissed me. That one night in my room, just being friends did not seem to be an option anymore. Having a boyfriend back home did not hold me back. I was too curious about finding out what those lips would actually taste like. He was sitting right in front of me; being so close that I could feel his breath on my skin; his eyes were following every single feature of my face. There were no more thoughts, no more doubts; reason seemed to be a never-been-there quality. It was this insecurity that got me right there. Time would just stand still in those seconds before he eventually kissed me. I can still remember what I felt in this very moment. It was like his kiss had brought me back to life. His lips wouldn’t just touch my lips; instead, he let them wander along my neck. It was the first time ever that I got goose-pimples from somebody kissing my neck. My whole body started to tremble. We were wondering if we were doing the right thing; but only for a moment, not even a second. The pleasure that I was experiencing that night was too intense and too sweet to give it up for something lifeless that was waiting at home.

Now I am looking at this very same guy that I felt for that night and I can’t see him anymore. All I can see is somebody who kinda changed his mind about me. I could just press my body towards his and kiss him, kiss him until this awkward feeling goes away. Even though I could easily touch him, it feels like we were a thousand miles apart. Sitting on this stool, blue hat on and smoking one cigarette after the other, he doesn’t really care anymore. Why should I care? Why do I have to be the one telling him that I miss him; that I am actually not okay with what is happening between the two of us? If he is all cool and distant, well, so am I. Talking about some unimportant things, we both get tired of this conversation real quick. Run, girl, run before you get hurt! I look at him again, trying to find an answer but there is nothing; just emptiness. I say ‘goodbye’, turn around, go down the stairs and walk to my apartment. I would usually turn one more time to see him smile at me; but not this time. He would read sadness in my eyes and I don’t want him to feel good about that. So, I just keep walking to finally unlock my door and disappear into the darkness of my living room.

CAPTCHA image