Yesterday, for the first time since we met and since I have known you to be my neighbor, we crossed each other's path accidentally. I knew it was inevitable, with you living just a stone's throw away from where I live, and with both of us having just a 1-hour difference in our work schedules -you being speeded up by having your own vehicle and me being slowed down by public transportation and my tendency to buy groceries first before heading home.
Ever since we met, I had acquired the habit of always peering intently at the faces of motorcycle riders to see if it was you. Yesterday, it really was you. You were wearing your helmet, allowing me to just look at your eyes for identification. I had planned on what to do when I see you again -originally thinking of snubbing you or looking at you and then looking away pointedly and then later on thinking that my heart will probably be transparent anyway and that I'll most likely give you a sad smile in the incident that you cross my path and you are with your new love.
I did none of that. I looked up straight in your helmeted eyes and held your gaze for as long as I can, savouring the moment, drinking the presence of you all in, knowing that it was all I had and will probably ever have in a world where I have to rely on circumstance to see you again. I never saw your motorcycle to confirm if it was really you. I never had the chance as I was stunned to see you or the idea of you, asking myself if it was really you, unsure of myself, unsure of you. But what if it's not you, I asked myself. Yes of course, it is you, I chided myself. I'd know those eyes from anywhere even if they are quite sad. They mirror my own emotions.