Overdue, I Guess

This happened sometime in late summer 2009.

As I walked down Walnut street intersecting 18th, then17th, then16th, the road traffic stopped. I was wearing the manky grey beater, if you remember. I couldn’t believe it when our eyes met for the first time. You obviously had a good job or a trust fund, I’m not sure which. You seemed young, but still somethow fitting in that incredibly expensive-looking midnight black convertible with beige leather seats. You seemed too good (or just as well, too bad) to be true. I looked away.

You needed to keep your eyes on the road, and I was distracting you. I had no idea why I of all classy people on Walnut could be distracting you, so I looked back at the street with hopes of meeting your eyes again for a possible answer to these questions. Just as I though, your eyes were right on mine. You, with your pink button-down shirt covering the chiseled physique and dark medium-length hair ever so slightly windswept, were looking back at me with dark mysterious eyes. Not only that, but you also had a hunger for discovery behind the dark irises glinted by the summer sun. I wondered about you, but I had to keep walking. I turned away to face forward. You had to turn away to face your own direction and face the road traffic ahead.

I needed to be sure one more time that the strange lighthearted feeling I had at the moment was coming from you too. I turned to face you again. At this point, your car was completely behind me and facing in the opposite direction. I was almost sure that you wouldn’t look. But you did. You were turned around completely backward, holding the headrest of the empty passenger seat next to you to help your body’s extension.You were a surprisingly safe driver as you began to move, despite your view of the road being sub-par (considering you were looking backward). I finally had to walk on, and you had to drive on. Our gazes had to separate, yet you did it so smoothly that when you drove off with a smile (directed to me), I was smiling too, unknowingly.

If you see this, mister tall, chiseled, dark, and rich, I want you to know that I’m too young for you. I’m a man-eater, and break the hearts of anyone particularly love-struck. Also, how long were you staring like that? You should probably be a safer driver than that. Good luck!