Bridge

It was almost like your mind and your heart were extracted through some sort of spell and hurled into a new body. His range of vision was constrained, like seeing through two adjacent ovals, with the exterior of the ovals being blurry. He was inside somewhere unfamiliar. But he knew there were no windows, and hence in some open space, and the ceiling was not high because he could estimate that he could reach it if he jumped a few inches. Pillars dotted throughout the area, similar to a car park. But there were no lots. It was pitch black outside, whilst the interior was lit dimly with an orange- tinge.

She was standing next to a pillar. Seemingly restraint, she circled the pillar ever so slowly, hands tucked into her pockets. Her dark blue jeans complemented the grey shirt she wore that was half tucked in, and the black glasses she wore, its lenses glistening in the artificial light of the place they were in, making like an abstract painting of some sorts. So were strands of her ponytail hair, glowing a soft white.

And as his eyes locked onto hers, it was like that feeling of popping a mint into ones mouth, which soon after would be filled with a tingling warmth. Only now his whole body, from his head to the tip of his fingers and toes, was feeling that way, and his heartbeat grew louder, but remained at the same rate. Her expression was very composed but also was a face of someone waiting to be set free, a prisoner. She began to play with her lips, interchanging between biting and licking them, and her cheeks began to flush slightly. He could not see his own face, but he was certain a considerable amount of blood had rushed to his cheeks as well.

But what made this moment unique for him was that he never really talked to her, and only seen her in passing or the occasional “hi”s or exchange of glances. But during those short moments of acknowledgement, he could sense something within him brew. And now there they were, with him standing rooted to the ground a few feet in front of her. Her footsteps echoed throughout the place in almost rhythmic fashion. He felt slightly lightheaded, his centre of gravity being shifted back and forth, side to side, his entire body saturated with heat.

“Maybe you want to go out with me again?” she giggled as she stopped circling and stood in front of the pillar, giving a sheepish look toward him. At the moment the question was asked, if he could see himself from a third person point of view, he could imagine his eyebrows make an angle, shaping his look into one of discovery.

“Yeah” he blurted out. She replied with a small chuckle. There was a short moment when they just examined each other, but remained at a distance. It was as if they wanted to see each other in an entirety, or the way they move.

She starting strolling leftwards, to which he responded by doing the same. He observed her shadow lengthen and shorten, morphing slowly under the illumination above. They seemed quite exhausted, like in a post-partying state. And after a while of silence, she finally spoke. He couldn’t really hear her due to the buzzing sound of the lights, but she was loud enough for him to make out the words.

“We should go onto the bridge again.” And at the pause between saying that and what she was about to say next, he was slightly confused, but his heart remained on fire.

“We …………. look good. On bridges.” And as she finished the statement she gazed down at his shadow. He could not see her face with her head bent down, but he could spot a small grin. When he heard what she really meant, he then felt a sudden sense of longing coming to an end, but also sympathy. Because at that moment, he realised that despite the unfamiliarity between the two, a knot was tied on their wrists, connected them by a rope. He realised what he sees in his life, he sees in hers: the notion of seeing yourself through the eyes of an outsider, watching every single move you take, every conversation you make, every tear you shed, and every time you close your eyes to rest and sleep.

He realised she had that sort of feeling. And he cried at the thought of that.