I was clear what to do: tell him I’d decided against him on his decision against me. He was there but there was no seat beside for me to take. The choice was one opposite, behind his back, where he might not see me or I him when he left off, or at the end of the row diagonally across, where he’d have to pass me on leaving, giving me a much better chance of noticing when he did.
Shortly I was emotionally fraught; I did not want to face him but did want to bale out. The feeling was one, if I’d ever had it before, I could only have had a long time ago when I was young; I felt so young. I described it in an email to my virtual friend, Justin, but soon ran out of things to say. I couldn’t sit there doing nothing waiting for him to leave. I sat outside on the couch, still emotional but intent on telling him despite not wanting to. He came out and was going down the other stair. I stood up. At the turn of the stair he mouthed or said hi but didn’t wait. The look on his face was one of emotional worry. He couldn’t wait to get away from me. I thought he knew what I’d’ve said without my saying.
I followed after without attempting to catch up and took to the opposite direction, the strong emotion rapidly clearing but without him my life will be flat. I’d rather in his propinquity feel driven towards him emotionally but I’d give anything, practically anything, accept his self-protective lies, the moral cowardice, just to pick up, reciprocate his feelings at short range.
Being tuned into another’s feelings isn’t new to me but his are the strongest, the best. Mine are weak in comparison. Since I’m an emotional receptor, he’s made for me.