Crush

I board the bus. Across the aisle, a most beautiful creature sits. Her friend calls her Kate. She notices me. A smile. Legs folded, she starts reading a book. I close my eyes.

I open my eyes.

Sunlight refracts off her lush, auburn hair. Freckles dot her skin. Kate is sleeping sound. Resisting the urge to caress her, I place a quick kiss on her head. Slowly, opening her round eyes, she smiles.
Not one of those big morning smiles. A small, gentle extension of her lips, to remind me that life is made up of such droplets of moments, and there at that moment, I did not want anything else other than to be there with her.

I open my eyes.

I look sideways. Her friend nudges and tells her their stop is next.
How will I know? How will I know that this girl currently occupying my dreams is the girl? My guts scream and yell that she is the one, my heart says to talk to her, but a hint of doubt exists in the back of my mind . A cancer that grows too quickly and agonizingly. It engulfs my heart and I decide. Dreams don’t happen so easily in my life, and I let her go.

Our choices tore us apart.

Years pass. I am a husband now, an expecting father.

I board the bus. We meet again. She wears a ring on her finger. Those feelings have extinguished. Those illusions that propelled me to commit marvellous mistakes and experience extraordinary joys are gone. All that remains is a weathered, battle-scarred survivor. To survive each day of physical existence is my motto. I let her go again, without any word, we pass each other, just a courteous flicker of her eyelashes to remember her by.

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