I hold her gaze and can see that she is scrutinising my motions. Her eyes are two brown orbs, which seem to hold a mute sadness. I was too scared to tell her of my longing outside of a surgical description of its characteristics, so I’m not really that surprised that she doesn’t feel the same way. Dispassion breeds dispassion. I feared telling her, but felt I should be honest. I can understand my shortcomings when it comes to situations like this. By trying to avoid misunderstanding, I was causing it. By thinking, I was complicating.
We watched a film and then walked to the train station. My train had already left and I ignored the fact that she thought there was another. I couldn’t bare to say that she was wrong. I offered to get a taxi for her and she said it would demonstrate a ‘lack of sense’. I have a lot of sense, sense enough to want her to be safe and get home before 12pm myself. It was a stab through the heart. The next day she told me she didn’t want to go out with me.
Filed under: Nikki
