The sun was setting and it was a wonderful day. I saw a man with a familiar face. One that I’ve seen too many times before and wanted to mistaken for someone else. But I looked at him and he looked at me. I couldn’t rid the facial expression I had while looking at him. I tilted my head, fixed my eyes on his slim face and ghost like expression, saw his slumped shoulders, and thin structure.
He wasn’t even phased when we locked eyes. It didn’t phase me until a second after and I waved and said, “Hi!”
He snapped out of his trance and jumped at me with a big hug of joy. He was so happy to see me. My heart warmed with relief, contempt, and utter excitement to see one of my many favorite people in the world.
We held a conversation for a moment and I couldn’t help but notice who he was with. Was he with anyone? By himself? It didn’t seem like it. He didn’t mention it. But I could tell. I was too distracted looking for who he was with. I wanted to be angry at him for being here with another woman. But I couldn’t be. Because he had all of the right intentions to be here with someone. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers. It was her decision to let go and his decision to move on.
I kept looking back at him to make it seem like I was fixated on the conversation, but my eyes kept wandering. I guess it was true. The story his eyes told when they were bold enough to hold waves of tears that fogged the bottom of his eyes, like the sun setting on the waves at dusk, turning love into lust. All the memories that will forever be moments to cherish and linger on. And that spark of happiness that will forever stay back with all the things lost.
All the times we had with him merely only memories in the bedding of our hearts.