She walked to work like everyday. The feeling that some one was watching was stronger than most days. She wrapped her arms around tightly, holding herself together. Just as she looked behind to make sure she was alone, the wind whooshed passed suddenly, playing with her hair, whispering like it had a secret to tell.
His favourite mornings began with a message from her. Even the harmless “good morning” jump started his day with a smile. On days she didn’t message, everything seemed wrong with the world. He had known her for a short while but it seemed like an eternity. They had become good friends over a period of time. He watched her work her way through the day, hiding is stares between causal conversations. He hoped his eyes didn’t betray him and give away what he had been hiding.
He saw her through the window. She was impatiently looking into her phone. She was waiting for him. All he wanted to do was sweep her off her feet and take her in his arms. Instead he stood at a distance, watching her. Stealing a moment as he filled his eyes with images of her.
He wished he could tuck the errant strand of hair that kept troubling her. He wished he could freeze the smile that curved on her lips. He wished he could kiss her forehead, and wipe all her worries away. He wished to be the reason of her happiness. He wished he could tell her what she meant to him.
He sighed as he walked up to her.
She smiled as she saw him, his heart skipped a beat. She was complaining about him being late, but he couldn’t take his off her earring that kept kissing her cheek. He cleared his throat and apologised. She kept talking, telling him everything that happened along with everything that could have happened, questioning him with her big eyes when he didn’t respond. He shook his head and replied to her. The sun kept crawling to meet the western horizon as their chats went on, then it was the the time of the day he hated the most. Time for her to go back into her world, and for him to come back into his.
They would spend the whole day talking yet he would miss her when she was gone. He would look at her pictures when she wasn’t there, making him feel her presence around him. He would replay the stories she would tell him, imagining himself with her in them. He would wait all night for it to be morning, just so he could see her again. She was the last thought in his mind before he slept and the first after he woke up. He wondered if she thought of him sometimes the way he thought of her. He wondered is she would let him do, all that he wanted to.
She was pretty and she was smart, she was perfect like a piece of art. She was everything a girl should be. The only thing she wasn’t was that, she wasn’t his.
“Why am I afraid to lose you, when you aren’t even mine” he thought aloud.
The thought troubled him for a bit, but he pushed it away. He didn’t care who she belonged to, cause no one could take her thoughts away from him.
She was and would always be his pretty little secret.