(I heard from a movie that the best way to get over someone is to turn that person into literature. So after a semester of waiting in vain, here we go.)
We sat on both ends of the diagonal on one of Gemma’s lecture halls. Just perfect, even though she’s farthest to me than everyone else, because I could maintain a vague image of her on the corner of my eye as I pretend to pay attention to the lecturer.
I always wanted to draw close, but I fear that the star I longed to capture would melt me the moment I dare go near – like a prey trying to hunt its own predator. Hence, I decided to keep a safe distance away from her, and hoped that one day, this star would fall – fall for me.
Thus, from the other end of the diagonal, I hopelessly stole a glimpse of her, and kept the image I seized in my memory. Desperately, every minute, I covertly sneaked a peek on a piece of heaven in that classroom. Then suddenly, after a thousand of stolen glances, I caught her glancing back at me. Our eyes met. It felt like that the cosmos suddenly stood still in order for me to cherish a moment that makes probability theorems collapse.
I never know if that moment could ever happen again. But that instant, that once every one thousand times that she became aware of my presence makes me feel more than just a phantom. Like a spark that abruptly gives off a split-second brightness in the dark, giving a jolt of hope to my heart and keeps it beating.
Though it seemed that a flash of light blinked at the end of the tunnel, the class was dismissed. So as my hopes vanished.