Undecided

C, SUMMER 87', 9am

I wondered what you thought of me, but I couldn't ask again. Being interrupted was the sign from whatever is out there to myself that It wasn't meant to be said, only contemplated. I visited the coffee shop once a week after that encounter. It's been over a few months now of our exchanges. I couldn't get your smile from the first time reading the book out of my mind., you were immersed in it, just as I was when I had it, moreso, when I wrote it.
It was summer '83,
Freshman year of college, I met someone.
She wasn't anything like you, Abrielle. She didn't have kind eyes or soft features. Her voice didn't waver. Nor did she have long brown hair like yours, quite the opposite of everything you are or to become.
She was an international student, everything about her was New York. She had the city in her eyes, the city in her voice, she was the embodiment of the place she grew up. She was crude with everyone, everyone but me. " You see, the book you're reading right now Abrielle, she's the ending. Possibly you, possibly you are the beginning. " I couldn't ever begin to fathom how I'd tell you those words. Maybe you'd be angry I wrote about something so intimate, something so raw. The story I wrote was salt on a wound that you were currently healing.
I distanced myself from you, too comfortable for my own good. Perhaps you aren't poisonous, maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. But over these few months, you've been getting bolder, hinting at seeing me outside of the coffee shop. Do you even know what that could mean, what kind of water you are dipping your toes into? From my side of the bend, the water is cloudy. I can't see my toes due to the amount of pollution the past has caused. It's been over a week. Have you thought about me in the slightest? I've been trying to distract myself with schoolwork, but that's much too easy.
My mind every moment it can makes your absence known. Thinking of you now, I rode my bike down to the shopping district, down to where your cafe is. A trail I know like the back of my hand. The sun was rising, paving the ground with its light. I felt the heat trail up my spine to my neck, stretching out a bit at the feeling, my back cracking as I moved. The sun's rays covered the lack of clothing on my shoulders with its warmth as well as my legs which were finally being glazed in intensity. As the cafe was coming up, I slowed my legs down, holding back on the pedals and raising my feet up onto the frame.
My fingers stay gripped on the handlebars, I couldn't help but smile seeing you in the window. You looked deep in thought for a moment, my eyes met the closed sign on the front door, and then they met your expectant eyes. I watched as you disappeared from the window to the door, without saying a word, I took your silence as an invitation and let myself in.