As I was walking down the street yesterday, I noticed a young man carrying a large bouquet of roses. Aww, I thought. Lucky lass. He was pacing nervously back and forth in front of a building entrance.
The tension in his air was palpable. First date? I wondered. An anniversary? A birthday? A marriage proposal??? I was instantly lured by the drama, sad sap that I am.
NO, I didn't just stop and stare. Please. I'm too poised for that. Instead, I pretended my laces had come undone, and assiduously untied-and-retied them three times while waiting for the next step to unfold. Yes, my pathetic slyness knows no bounds. I know, I know - I should stop gleaning vicariously off other people and just find some drama in my own life. But there's only so much one can blog about new sunglasses.
The guy was obviously agonising over something, he raked his hands through his hair a few times, gritted his teeth, and kept rubbing his palms on his jeans. His turns back and forth had a tense vehemence to them. These are flowers to make up for a fight, I concluded. Awww, lucky girl. She's going to be so thrilled, and hopefully it'll be okay again and -
He suddenly threw the flowers onto the ground, deliberately stamped on them, crushing all the flowers, and stormed off. I stared after him unabashedly, mouth agape. He had deviated from the plot, thrown it to the winds and stomped all over my happy ending. And I thought of the person still upstairs, who didn't even know this had happened. Probably waiting for him to come and apologise. Probably hoping for some flowers.
Suddenly, I felt guilty to have witnessed something that went so wrong.
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2 comments:
Mayeb he felt so wigged out by this strange girl staring at him that he felt he just couldn't go through with it?
Nobody noticed me there. I was like the Private Eye. ~FMP
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