Histrionics

Two very little things, but I want to remember them, as they may be my last memories of him ever, and if not ever, meetings will be few and far between.

First in the early evening. I knew when to expect him and didn't concern myself with searching the deeper recesses of the room. I'd get a smile before I left for my meeting, and with the crowd, probably no chance to chat. Besides, I had friends to talk with. And then, all of a sudden, I catch sight of the back of his head in 3/4 profile. The rest of him was hidden by a doorway, but the shape, the haircut, were quite familiar and I swooned a little. A sketch of a symbol, a slight glimpse of a reflection, and I felt the clack, clack, clack, whoosh of the roller coaster leaving the station.

Like all roller coasters, I was turned out, staggering with adrenaline, too soon. Too soon was some hours later. The place was packed when I returned with friends, and we were graciously ushered to a corner. From my seat I could see him laughing, bantering, working, on the other side of the room. A conspiracy of friends and strangers kept me from bellying up and making a fool of myself. But at the last minute, I was heading toward the door where my coat and bag were held on patient standby. He turned into the aisle; I blocked his path, first by coincidence and a split second later on purpose. In an unprecedented act of friendliness, he reached out and gave me a hug while my tongue fumbled through suggestions of pleasantries.

It was a chaste crush, irrational and fading, but I have no regrets.