Your smile graced into my view as I walked down the hallway today. I felt confident in my slouchy, patent leather black boots; they went click, click, click as they approached you with confident strides. And when you called my name, a lantern lit up inside me as I turned to face you, prepared to give you my best smile. But no things are as I expect them, for we exchange nods and I smile slightly, uneasily, as you wave to me from where you sat on the hallway floor. And I stood there, awkwardly, and waved back. And the moment seemed to last hours and seconds at the same time because I didn’t know if I wanted it to be over or if I wanted to hold on to every little bit of it that I would have left. I nod my head in the opposite direction, telling you, I have to go, and you do the same, with a hint of sparkle in your eye and a slight charm to your smile. The click, click from my boots sound again, echoing down the hallway, perhaps matching the beat of my heart. I keep my head up high, my shoulders back and my stride intact, if by some miracle, just in case, you decide to take a second glance at me.
