Her breath was caught in her throat and the all too familiar sensation of her heart constricting started to build in her chest. His face stood out in a sea of blank faces. His eyes were staring straight ahead as she wondered, did he see her?
She continued to look at him, unabashed. If he was going to pretend not to notice her, then she'll stare as she much as she wants. So she looked at him. She looked as closely as she could from across the street. She stared at his lips and remembered what it was like to see his smile. She stared at him and she remembered how nice it was to hear him laugh. She remembered how great it was to make him laugh. She remembered the concerned look in his face whenever she wasn't feeling well or when she was in a bad mood. She remembered so much about him that she didn't know how to even begin to describe all of it. She looked at his new hair, he cut it. It looked good on him, but she would never admit it out loud. She looked at him, dressed in black, as always. He lost some weight, maybe because of the stress of his new job. Her eyes landed on his hands and she remembered how she held it that one time. Ten seconds she said, that's all she needed. She sighed at the memory.
She finally looked away when she felt everyone start to move. She saw the light has finally turned green and people started walking to cross the street. He started moving too and she knew that if she started walking, she'd run into him. So she took her first step. And then she took another. Every step propelling her towards him. She had every intention of saying "hi". A quick greeting, to see if he'd say it back.
One step. Two. Three.
She remembered the day she met him. How he was all awkward smiles and cute dimples.
Four. Five. Six steps.
She remembered the first time that they had breakfast together. Egg McMuffins and coffee with hash brown.
Seven. Eight steps. Nine.
She remembered the first time he spoke to her, really spoke to her. The day he started to open up to her. How he told her his fears and ideas and a lot of other things.
Ten steps. Eleven. Twelve.
She remembered how it felt to hold his hand.
Thirteen. Fourteen steps. Fifteen.
She remembered how he told her that they clicked and that it was awesome. And how she liked him, really liked him.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen steps.
She remembered how he promised that nothing would change. That they would be normal no matter what.
Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.
She remembered how he started to drift away from her. She remembered how he started being cold and how he started avoiding her and being aloof.
Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty four.
She remembered how he told her to stay away from him and pretend he never existed. She remembered that he broke her heart.
And so just as they were about to meet, in the middle of the cross walk, she looked away. And she kept on walking without saying a word. Because that's what you do when someone breaks your heart, you move forward.
Someone once said this to her, if the sadness outweighs the happiness that a person gives you, then you know it's time to let him go. The what ifs and the what might have been stop to matter when you no longer feel welcome. You no longer need to stick around if you know you're not wanted. Moving on becomes a necessity when seeing someone breaks your heart more than it lightens it. And as she took more and more steps away from him, she felt it, she was finally ready to start moving forward.