A faint memory, a familiar name, a face that hasn't changed.
All it took was a message.
What started as a polite reunion became so much more.
The smiles, the laughter, the discussions about life.
An almost stranger from a distant past transforms into someone you feel like you've known for so long.
She calls.
Her delicate voice is soothing to my ears.
Heart racing, legs ever so heavy.
We meet face to face.
We exchange hands, and smile.
Calloused, rough, uncared for hands lightly embrace soft, petite hands with skin as smooth as the petal of a flower.
According to each other, neither has changed much.
Eyes gazing, their imaginations go wild, a social taboo unfolds before them!
The pressure mounts, their eyes burn, searching for answers.
I suggest we go outside, the wind is favorable. She shakes her head and points to a table.
I admire her reaction, she doesn't acknowledge their existence.
She was at ease, she felt natural.
Our responses should have been the opposite.
The tables have been turned. She was different.
We're in our own world. Outside distractions don't exist.
The only thing that matters is that face in front of me.
Her drive to succeed in life and her passion to prove herself trivializes that of my own, or perhaps just differs.
She reminds me of them but with none of their flaws.
A survivor amidst a chaotic upbringing. A troublesome life that has strengthened her resolve to fight.
I think of how similar she is to myself but I keep it to myself, tonight is where I listen and marvel.
Lack of sleep and sustenance has made me weak and impatient. I do my best to not let it get a hold of me.
Is my interest dying down or is it the fatigue? The caffeine wears out.
The clock ticks, the seconds draw closer, the moment is upon us.
I walk her to her car, her work etiquette overcame her once more and we shake hands once again.
She hopes to do this again, I wonder of her sincerity.
She has shared so much and I had not returned the gesture.
That would change the next time I told myself. A feeling of trust emanates from her.
We continue talking once back home.
Three hours of sleep over the course of two days and no food has taken it's toll on me, a drowsiness overcomes me.
I bid her goodnight.
My emotions are a tangled web of deceit.
Never am I certain of my feelings for another.
They vanish and resurface, appearing slightly different each time.
Possibilities and vivid thoughts enter my mind.
If our destinies are intertwined, cultural barriers could possibly play a part in the demise of our fate.
History repeats itself.
But she is different.
