Something Else

This is a short story (a short-short story) that I wrote for a contest on an online forum I occasionally browse. The contest was cancelled before it started but they hinted at contest and I started writing. It reminds me of my school days, even if it is a perversion of them.

Enjoy.

(Disclaimer -- It is my claim that this is a work of fictional art. It's like when I sang "Just a Gigolo" in front of my wife. I am not selling my body and I am not obsessed with any former U of L students)

Smile

I see you pass by every day. You look my way and smile. That smile, I swear to God, has the power to stop the sun. You leave a trail of hanging jaws in your wake, young men, longing to do the things of which young men dream. Nevertheless, your smile is for me.

Our time together is precious. Our dates are always short. You have things to do that don’t involve me. I wish they did, I wish I could be involved in everything with you, but the life of a student is a busy one.

Do you remember that one special Saturday? We met in the atrium at the university? We ate lunch. We talked expansively about assignments, professors we hated, and of things that were so important that I cannot recall a word.

What I do remember is the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, the wrinkle of your nose when you smile at me. I remember the delicate scent of your perfume as we shared our Saturday lunch.

Now, I’m sitting in the same atrium, and I know you’ll be along soon. You always come to the atrium Monday mornings. Sunday was the longest day of my life, waiting to see you again, to feel your smile fall on me with the warmth of a sunny autumn day.

You approach and I ache to tell you how I feel. You are absolutely breathtaking. I open my mouth as you near. The perfume is intoxicating. Your eyes sparkle. My throat catches as I move to catch your attention. I can say nothing as you smile down at me, seated at my usual table.

And then you are gone. You take your customary seat at the other end of the atrium, striking up a conversation with one of your friends. Realizing my mouth has been open the entire time, I close it in embarrassment. A thousand imagined conversations fly through my head as I realize, once again, that the people you sit with are actually worth your time.

I’m worth your smile.