A Five-Second Story

In this corridor, why don’t you just ignore…me?

Through the vacant smiles, our longing glance, and these forsaken chances… all we do is pass it by.

One. Two. Five seconds of just staring at each other. 

Three. Four. Five seconds—enough for hearts to begin to wonder.

Illustration: Glaciane Kelly Lacerna

I was out of breath for five seconds. These honest eyes having conversations that we didn’t dare to try. In the peak of May, when everybody’s packing up for summertime—these hands are cold, and this moment’s shiver-worth spiraling. In the blink of time and spinning fate, I saw him. 

As sunset peeks through his back, light shines around him—skin painted golden, eyes gleamed and twinkled. I saw him.

One. I remembered one funny story, from that same shock on your face, and a smile that I won’t forget that looks like Christopher Robin. ‘Twas a pause of time, a slow motion when everybody’s gone. The first one was a glisten of an untimely shutter.

Two. A haze around him, blurred from the light, a question of, “Should I leave it, or should I might?” Might approach. Might smile back. Might look down. Or might just push back. One step forward, and one more second passed. A love when one denies, while the other disguises. Two seconds in, still dismissing glances.

Three. Hoping he’d hit me gently. Bump into me softly. Waiting for him to make a move. This art of pride, and harm of prejudice. A moment, time by time, losing what could’ve been—like a supercut playing on the backside of the Louvre.

Four. After all, I want more. From this second on, I can’t carry on. He’ll pass me by—no more eye to eye. I walk through the light that once peeked on his head. Through the rainbow halo—the infrared and ultraviolet, I saw him. Let me take a picture of one last moment. If I look back, I hope it’s everything but indifference.

Five. So, I did. I took the chance. I looked back. I met him. I did everything I doubt. In this corridor of narrow odds, as my heart implored, I did look back. For some twist of fate, in a sacrament of certainty, he’s walking by. Head turned, stealing a glance, chasing our fleeting moment passing by. Eyes met, eyes locked. He saw me. Our faces flushed red—shocked—of this funny story, we walked to the other end, as we chased one more moment to revive. He met me. 

Article: Renz Gerald Romualdez

Illustration: Glaciane Kelly Lacerna