Blank Stare

“She doesn’t remember me,” I thought after I had shouted out her name so that everyone near and far could see how happy I was to once again be in her presence. My face slowly fell, like the bath letters once the water cascaded down on them from the shower, easing their way to the tub. My face felt like that, and then I was instantly embarrassed, but why should I have been? She’s the one who should have been ashamed that she didn’t recognize me, someone who had been, if not integral, at least a solid player in her life for two years. Or was I? Maybe I got it all mixed up, and in my mind I played a much larger role, like the protagonist, or the antagonist, or at least one of the primary foils. Don’t you think? But instead I was probably just a minor character in her eyes, as interchangeable as Megabloks, no matter the color. They fit together, then they pull apart, and we sure did pull apart. And I had been devastated when she disappeared like the fog rolling back into the ocean, assuming she felt the same, but that one look stopped me cold. She had absolutely no idea who I was.

She paused for a second, caught in the glare of my headlights, but not knowing what to say, so she smiled. You know, that fake smile people put on when they are unsure of what else to do, and she said it was good to see me too. I’m sure it was. It’s always nice to meet new people, isn’t it? Sorry, it was just so draining, I have to ask your opinion. Have you ever had a moment in time you wish you could reclaim before it happened, as if you could blink like a genie and you get a do-over? I could have pretended I never saw her, and my day would have gone on as it always does, the monotony of it swallowing me whole in its gaping maw. But there was no taking back that brilliant smile that hit my face upon seeing her. I wouldn’t want that back, but what happened after. Yeah, that I would take back.

In a heartbeat.

Sam