It occured to me that I have a crush. I stood there, staring, stalking-like, on my tip toe looking over the many linear bookshelves - we're both inside a bookstore - to avoid her attention. Surely I was only allured by her appearance, and not a crush, right? But her gait, her flowing black hair, her innocent pretty face, the way she sways and observed the books, picked up one ancient book with apparently no yellow spots, it was wrapped in a translucent plastic, wiped the dust off of the covers, read the back description, intrigued, a smirk appeared on her face and her eyes opened and shone, all brown under the mechanical lights, all pretty in her presence.
Gosh, should I talk to her? Maybe I should, maybe not. I already have a conversation starter as I observed how she had liked the book by reading the back description, but then again, how can I flow the conversation once it stops? Like a graceful river flowing as it is, and then suddenly a huge boulder dropped from the sky and obstruct the entire path. Ah! I keep thinking too much! I feel nervous, like a bomb that'll eventually explode and turns me into ashes and dusts if I don't have the courage to talk to her, what should I do? Alright, I can do this, I believe in myself, asks how her day has been, how is she on this fine day or something, something ordinary!
As I walked patiently and softly, with an astute physiognomy like a soldier getting ready to line up, passing through various bookshelves like the view of houses in a moving train. But I saw none of her, like she was gone. I checked everywhere, even outside the bookstore, she was nowhere. Was she merely an imagination?
YOU ARE READING
Very Short Stories
Short StoryI am very new to writing, so expect some mistakes! In here, I will publish short stories of my own. Variety of themes, all sort of randomness. The cover is from a pinterest post.
