L O S T   M O M E N T 

“It’s time I go now,” I announced, if not a little sadly. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to walk away from his laughing voice, his smiling mouth. He sighed.

“Why?” he asked playfully, his laughter ringing out again. “I have to go too. Bus you know.” It always was like this. Waiting, spotting, talking, leaving. It only lasted ten minutes. If only we could have stopped time!

“Bye then,” I said, reaching up to hug him. His arms enveloped me into a gentle embrace. I stood there on my tip toes, wishing I had the courage to do that one thing. That one thing that we still hadn’t done as a couple.

I lowered myself down and looked into his face. His wonderful, perfect face. His arms still held my waist, keeping me close to his body. He bowed his head against mine, a simple but intimate gesture, murmuring a goodbye. As I tried to move away, I felt myself loosing balance.

“I’m going to fall!” I cried, giggles smearing my last few words. He held me firm, trying to keep us both balanced. His laughter echoed, clear as a bell. We both stumbled for a second, when I saw the moment.  

It was there, alluring, tempting, calling me to be brave. It couldn’t have lasted a second, but it felt like hours passed. Should I? Should I not? Would he mind? Would it be awkward? A small kiss is all I wanted. An internal battle raged. Then, in that single moment, I gathered the bit of courage I still had and impulsively leaned forward.

But I lost it.

He dipped his head forward, whether it was on purpose or to stay balanced, I don’t know. Our laughter continued and I appeared unaffected, but I screamed inside.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I was so close, oh so close. But I lost it. I dropped it, let it shatter, and stepped on the pieces like they weren’t there. My feet bled.