They say that before you die, your whole life beams before your eyes.
If it means bringing back regrets, lost promises, and tepid expectations — I wouldn't wish for death then.
Her stray gaze reflects from a window just beside where I sit. It was one of her cute mannerisms, staring at an empty space until somebody takes the spot. She would have looked away by now.
But she didn't.
I just shrugged it off.
She moves her arm as though it is an extension of her sight, unconsciously flipping some pages from a book. Her eyes dilate; I see her hazel orbs just fine as I desperately force my attention to pan away from the glass.
My quick response seems to speak for my loss of sensible movement. What's the matter? Nothing, actually. And when I say nothing, it usually means my-mind-cannot-think-of-anything. At least, I still have my sanity.
"What are you reading?"
Again. Pardon my scarcity of words.
I pushed my notes away to cover a page of GTA cheat codes. I smiled my angst. Her lips curled to an unsure expression, either to ridicule what she saw or to say something worth my attention.
"Cute," she laughed.
No. You are.
Those were the words I wanted to say at the moment, but I just couldn't.
"What is," I asked.
"The grin you wore just now."
My heart skipped a beat.
Did she mean it? Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't. I keep on asking myself questions I couldn't give a clear answer.
Or maybe I'm looking directly at it.