I’m sitting a room, only lit by the almost overcast sky that shines through the windows, reading from my kindle. This is a place that, even early in the morning, explodes with chaos but today no one’s even bothered to turn the lights on. Although nothing special, like a long weekend, made this Monday morning harder than previous ones, it was clear that this sluggish mood would define the rest of the day. I'm not alone. He is also in here, the one I’ve mentioned before, pacing from instrument to instrument. My eyes follow his every move, completely forgetting my book. I try not to let him catch me watching him but I know he’s seen that I’m here. He doesn’t move like today’s a groggy Monday morning, he walks swiftly and with purpose. I suppose that’s simply his walk. A walk with meaning and destination.
He handles each instrument with careful calloused hands, and it’s beautiful. Without knowing a thing about him you can tell that his respect for each one is a mountain's worth. I’ve known him for almost four years now. We’ve played music together, in this same room, filled with other people playing too. We’ve gone to movies, walked on the beach, and sipped hot chocolate together. I have shared many deep and meaningful conversations with him and him with me. All these memories and yet I can’t find anything to say to him. I keep opening my mouth to say something but each time I bite down on my lips to close it. I really don't know what to say. Do I tell him that just his presence captivates me? I’m sitting here, my hands starting to sweat, holding another world in my hands but the only thing with my attention is him. I can’t go back into my fantasy world, I can’t even tear my eyes away. Should I tell him that being in the same room as him causes my heart to race? My hands that usually shake with chills could burn through the floor with just a touch. My face burning as red as a fireplace. My heart beating faster than a drum. Why can’t I say how I feel? How do you tell someone you’ve built a friendship with that you secretly hope your hands touch in the dark movie theater? How do I tell him that every conversation rings word for word through my head days later?
My attention snaps back to focus. He’s moving towards the door now, maybe the bell rang while I was lost in my thoughts. Just before he goes, he turns around and looks at me. His eyes are so intense they’re hypnotizing. A smile is spread across his face. He lifts his hand and gives a swift wave. For a split second, he doesn’t move, it looks like he’s going to say something. Then the moment passes and he turns back towards the door and goes on his way. I didn’t tell him anything and probably never will. I’m happy where I am. I love what we are. The thought of ruining that is terrifying. So this right here remains a secret. May it never past the confines of this single sheet of paper for if it did I would never be able to forgive myself.
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