She is getting ready to leave. She starts collecting her things and
putting them away in her bag. He senses that she is upset, that his
declaration of love has warranted this sudden need to catch the train.
He doesn't want to make matters worse, so he stands by quietly watching
her neatly arrange her notes in a pile before stuffing them into her
pink folder. He tries to read her expression, but fails. All he can see
is a blank stare, a blink here and a blink there. When she's done, he
walks her to the door. They stand in the dimmed hallway, not sure what
to say. They just look at each other with eyes screaming of a thousand
unspoken words. Neither wants to make the first move, both are reluctant
with fear of chasing the other away. Then, she leans in and takes him
by surprise. Their relation has never transcended the boundaries of
their desks. Sure their feet have touched on the rare occasions where
they'd somehow synchronize a stretch. Their fingers have grazed while
exchanging notes and handing out coffee. But never before have they
engaged in a deliberate act of physical contact, not even to hold hands.
He is amused that she'd be the one to make the first move. Her body
moves in closer to his. She overtakes him with a warm embrace. Standing
tippy-toe, she wraps her arms around his neck, nestles her head in the
crevasse below his chin, and holds on for dear life. He can feel her
pressing against him. He can smell her scent. He can feel her breath. He
can hear her heart beat in harmony with his own. They stayed there for
what seems like a short eternity. She knew it was time to go. She raises
her head and catches his gaze. Then, she kisses him on the cheek and
disappears as if in thin air. He just stands there, trying to
permanently edge the memory in his being.
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