Their minds are pre-occupied. One trips as his eyes are blinded to the world around him. Solely focused on the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He is mentally kicking himself. Another opportunity. Another chance to say those words. But his fear got the better of him. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if the fantasy in his mind is just that….a fantasy? He drags his weary mind and body back to his dorm. Unspoken words dragging behind him like a ball and chain.
She is confused and distressed. She wonders if she is rushing things. She wonders if things are not following the timeline. She is torn between two viewpoints. Why hasn’t he said something yet? Should she take the initiative? The traditionalist within her roars fiercely at the mere suggestion. She shakes her head and collapses onto the one thing that can bring her comfort now. A couch. As the cushions envelope her into their warmth and familiarity, she feels a moment of peace overcome her. As her eyes close in thought, she ponders what to do. Is it worth it? Yes. Is he worth it? Yes. She hates moments like this, but equally loves them. It is kind of the way she feels about him sometimes. That smile. That hair. His compassion for others. WHY??!?!?! WHY IS SHE HAVING THIS INNER BATTLE? She mentally pulls her hair in frustration and wills her mind to float. Float away from this turmoil. Away from the cold of South Bend and the cold chill that runs through her during times like this. From everything. This is all she wants. Turmoil wracks her.
Anticipation. This is the last feeling both feel as they sleep away another opportunity. An opportunity to allow them to see where the other is. Every time they see each other. Every time they spend time together. Every time they speak to each other, there is an air that surrounds them. They can feel the Damocles’s sword swinging ominously above their hearts. The anticipation could be sliced. Swinging. Creaking. Slowing. Waiting.
***For my friends