I need an icon that says 'Slodwick made me do it!'
slodwick posted this picture and asked for 255 characters. I gave her 504 words. I've always been an overachiever.
Breaking the Glass
He sees her sometimes in the halls at work. He passes her. She passes him. He tells himself it's impolite to stare, but he can't help it. She's beautiful, but he's sort of damaged and work things always end badly, so he lets it go. Yeah, he'll definitely let it go.
Sometimes he wonders 'what if', but that's never led anywhere good.
It's a Tuesday and it's raining, he's running late, and she holds the elevator for him. He doesn't know it's her at first, at least not until he pushes the damp hair out of his eyes. It wasn't raining when he left home this morning.
He smiles and says, "Thanks" and she just, she smiles back.
His heart does this weird thump in his chest, like a bird smacking against a closed window. It hurts a little. He ignores it. Her hair is escaping from where she's pinned it up, like it's trying to break free.
He looks down at his shoes.
She gets off on the sixth floor. He's never been to six, but he knows that's where she is if he ever... Yeah, he'll never.
So days pass, and weeks pass, and he sees her in the hallways sometimes. She gives him little smiles and he says 'hi', and that's it. That is their non-existent relationship.
He tells himself it's better than finding out they're 'incompatible' anyway. That she lies. Or snores. Or is completely incapable of not sleeping with all of his friends.
Except that one day he has to go down to six, it's IT and HR and OMG and all those abbreviations that make people roll their eyes, and he doesn't know where he's going. That's the story of his life, really.
608 becomes 621 becomes 614 and there's no rhyme or reason, there's nothing for any of it. But it's a Tuesday, and the hallways are this sort of yellow-green shade that's like mucus or something, and she's there, leaning against the wall in this dress, and her hair is escaping from where she's pinned it up again.
She looks up at him and then she looks back down at her shoes.
He walks past her, and his heart does that thump-smack thing.
And then he stops.
And he looks back.
His heart does that thump-smack again, and then, very distantly, he hears something creaking, cracking and breaking. It's like glass shattering and air rushing in.
He looks down at his shoes as though they'll have the answer written on the toes in abbreviations: OMG! WTF! ILU2!
But the answer isn't there, and when he looks back up, she's watching him. She is watching him.
"Oh," he says.
"Oh," she says.
He blinks at her, the heat filling his cheeks.
She looks down at her shoes and then back up at him.
"I--I," he stutters.
She smiles softly. "I, uh, I've been watching you too."
He opens his mouth to say something -- anything -- and with all the air rushing out and the words caught in his throat, it's like learning to breathe all over again.
Breaking the Glass
He sees her sometimes in the halls at work. He passes her. She passes him. He tells himself it's impolite to stare, but he can't help it. She's beautiful, but he's sort of damaged and work things always end badly, so he lets it go. Yeah, he'll definitely let it go.
Sometimes he wonders 'what if', but that's never led anywhere good.
It's a Tuesday and it's raining, he's running late, and she holds the elevator for him. He doesn't know it's her at first, at least not until he pushes the damp hair out of his eyes. It wasn't raining when he left home this morning.
He smiles and says, "Thanks" and she just, she smiles back.
His heart does this weird thump in his chest, like a bird smacking against a closed window. It hurts a little. He ignores it. Her hair is escaping from where she's pinned it up, like it's trying to break free.
He looks down at his shoes.
She gets off on the sixth floor. He's never been to six, but he knows that's where she is if he ever... Yeah, he'll never.
So days pass, and weeks pass, and he sees her in the hallways sometimes. She gives him little smiles and he says 'hi', and that's it. That is their non-existent relationship.
He tells himself it's better than finding out they're 'incompatible' anyway. That she lies. Or snores. Or is completely incapable of not sleeping with all of his friends.
Except that one day he has to go down to six, it's IT and HR and OMG and all those abbreviations that make people roll their eyes, and he doesn't know where he's going. That's the story of his life, really.
608 becomes 621 becomes 614 and there's no rhyme or reason, there's nothing for any of it. But it's a Tuesday, and the hallways are this sort of yellow-green shade that's like mucus or something, and she's there, leaning against the wall in this dress, and her hair is escaping from where she's pinned it up again.
She looks up at him and then she looks back down at her shoes.
He walks past her, and his heart does that thump-smack thing.
And then he stops.
And he looks back.
His heart does that thump-smack again, and then, very distantly, he hears something creaking, cracking and breaking. It's like glass shattering and air rushing in.
He looks down at his shoes as though they'll have the answer written on the toes in abbreviations: OMG! WTF! ILU2!
But the answer isn't there, and when he looks back up, she's watching him. She is watching him.
"Oh," he says.
"Oh," she says.
He blinks at her, the heat filling his cheeks.
She looks down at her shoes and then back up at him.
"I--I," he stutters.
She smiles softly. "I, uh, I've been watching you too."
He opens his mouth to say something -- anything -- and with all the air rushing out and the words caught in his throat, it's like learning to breathe all over again.