mist

the one who created my yearbook write-up wanted me to give him a word to plug into it just like milkshake in the movie "Before Sunrise." we agreed on mist. here's the polished version of what he came up with...

She looks at you with a pair of knowing eyes. Her dainty hands, swirling her mocha rhapsody with a straw, would at times sway, consciously or unconsciously, brush away a lock of her hair, easing its crease. You sit in front of her, coming up with something to say that she hasn’t known yet. And fail. Then she speaks. Somehow your most profound lines now sound like folly.

But don’t be intimidated, even though she is hardly one of those shallow, resilient lasses that you oftentimes meet in the lobby. In a conversation you glimpse her heart opening up; family, friends and the strife that disturbs them. And a frail tear rolls along her lithe cheek and all your shoddy assumptions about her wash away like a faint unveiling mist.

Yet even that is not enough to know her.

You both stand up as you are leaving Likha Diwa. Passing through its doors, you feel thankful that you’ve found a Christian with whom you can talk your soul out to. You say goodbye and she leaves you with a wave of her hand, a sort of bliss in your heart, and a bemused feeling that you’ll only have again in another conversation with her.

we never had a conversation over a cup of coffee and he had never seen me cry except when watching a movie. but we might never bare our souls to each other again...