Crowish black, doveish white, rosy pink, khaki; it is quite a spectrum when you see someone from 32 inches away than from when you send their profile picture a few emotionless emoticons in a 32 bit reality. Your numb expectations walk barefoot into a fist fight with the titan of destiny, and the very notion that everything is about to change lasts for about two palpitations and a blink.
It's not too late before the first few syllables that leave her mouth identify as gibberish in my brain because my brain has now lopsided into anxiety, and bodily functions like sweating and twitching have become imminent. My neurons scream abandon ship as my brain drowns in its own chemicals. But then what is too late is the realization that leaning to the opposite side to avoid sinking only causes you to fall, and the worst part is there is no mattress provided for comfort, disappointment hits real hard.
"Hey!", she says. and before I even realize, me and my anticipatetheworstpossiblesituationinordertobepreparedtofaceanything mindset are taken by surprise, surprise and palpitations, yes those were quite real. I'm now poking the bloke beside me just to make sure I'm not in another one of my fantasies that take shape in conformity, usually while I procrastinate before cramming in every exam hall I embrace defeat in. It has become quite clear to me now, preparing for the worst situation only leads to a ticklish belly like when you're called on stage, not that I knew any better then, I didn't know butterflies came to our stomachs to die.
Soon enough the overly analytical enigma that my mind has become misfires a "bonjour!". We smile at each other for about as long as the metaphase lasts in a cell cycle. The chromosomes align in the shape of X's during the metaphase, just like the cross marks on all the words I'm running out of to say to her, as if they were inside the head of a fat and guilty plagiarist.
The clock ticks and tocks till the transition I'm in snaps like a cheap FriendsForever wristband and she tells me she must go, but I swear on the purple vibe of the very walls we were in that she wanted to stay as much as she had to leave. It was as if she found home a few miles away from her own in my eyes, even if the scar above my lip must have been hard to ignore. Well at least I knew she'd settle for a smile, because she looked backed after she said goodbye and sashayed through the door like the fugitive she was. The clock ticked and tocked, on and on, but I felt sort of empty. I checked my pockets, my socks, my boxers but what made me roll my eyes was finding out, that the palpitations were gone.
