Glance

First there is the hustle of people. Everyone crowding, crowding, a thousand different personalities crammed into one place. And everyone thinks their route is the most important. So they shove. And if you shove back, they shove harder.

Then there is the singling out. There is something in the face, one in millions, that leaves nothing to be desired. Even if you turned away then, the face would be imprinted on your mind for weeks.

Then eye contact is made. There is the flash of a sort of recognition, perhaps from a dream or past life. The eyes light up and you notice the color. The eye color is one of the most important details that you'll recall later when trying to commit the experience to a memory that will last you your whole life

The glance is held for perhaps a split-second. The longest split-second in history. It seems that it will never end. But perhaps this is just wishful thinking on your part. Your gazes seem to fit into one another like a pair of puzzle pieces, and you feel a falling sensation in your stomach. This is it. The climax of your life.

And then.

Someone else's egotism becomes more important than this. When you stop moving, someone pushes you to the ground. The eye contact is broken. A little bit of your soul has been torn out, is being carried away by that stranger, the stranger with the flawless eyes.

You never see those eyes again.

Maybe you were just another face in the crowd. But maybe that stranger fell for you just as hard as you did for them that day.