by Somethinger

We sat across each other.
I couldn’t look at him as I told him about ‘finding someone’. Someone who believed that I could be worth the time, the wait. I found myself fidgeting with my bag, undoing my hair and tying it back as he asked me questions. About someone I barely knew and he didn’t know existed.
He smiled at me. Not for me. I know him just as well now. I know he wanted to be told that I was lonely again. Not for him to stand by me, but because he didn’t want to be the only one left standing.
For the second time, it wasn’t me, it was him.
He tried searching for a link to the me he once knew. What he saw today was older, more contrasting, and with more sound in the background. He did not see the eighteen-year old who had eyes and ears only for him. The eyes had seen someone else. He feared looking at my ears because he didn’t want to find marks of that someone else on them. But his eyes did scan my neck.
He looked at me again.
All he saw was a sketch.
He looked at me again.
I turned my eyes away.