5 Seconds…

5 Seconds.

Anything over 5 seconds is awkward.  You can’t take it back.  You can make attempts to, but… it’ll be awkward.

I was looking at the hand tugging me along.   We decided to stop this a long time ago and stay friends.  I have refused to go up to her place on the 17th floor on numerous occasions and opted to have a salad or burger instead at the fast-food place downstairs.  Even the Starbucks at the ground floor of her condo building was refused.  I simply didn’t want to be in a position where I can no longer let her go.

But there I was…

…Letting this hand drag me.  This trusting hand.  The kind of trust that believes that it shouldn’t require much strength for the other hand to follow.

We crossed the street.  She didn’t look at me.  It was as if she was expecting me to follow.  I was a whole head taller than her.  I can see that slender neck arching to support the head that was watching out for oncoming traffic.

I could smell her hair.  Faintly of strawberries; her favorite shampoo.  That hand and nail lotion I recognize that she uses… the one that smelled of almonds.  “The wind is tricky”, I thought.  As if it were urging me to follow.

I see the tiny hairs of her arm glimmer underneath the afternoon sun.  My eyes wandered from her hand to the length of her arms.  That tiny scar on her elbow, was the one that got when she tried to stop me from leaving.  I returned her keys that day.  So many memories insisted themselves on me.  Her birthmarks.  That tiny g-clef tattoo at the back of her ear.

“Starbucks?”  I asked.  Not a word escaped her lips.  The entrance to the lobby was the direction her head was facing.  I understood what she was trying to do.  She looked at me for the first time since she tugged at my hand.

I couldn’t resist…  Not this time.  I knew that when I passed the 5 second mark.

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