Passion or Obsession?

November 2

We’re walking down a sidewalk as we accidentally bump into each other. You look at me and smile, apologize and move on with your day.
But me?
I don’t look at you. No. I smell you. The salt of the sweat that’s soaked into your clothing and evaporated into the air around you. The sting of the deodorant you wear in my nose, the musk of your cologne slipping down the back of my throat. I feel you. I can feel the warmth radiating from your arm as it brushes against mine, the slight base from your simple apology vibrating against my chest. It’s all subtle, accidental. I know this, but I can’t help myself from feeling it. I look into your eyes for a moment, a second, and apologize. I get to look into your eyes now, your soul, your memories, the reciprocations of your choices. I want to ask why you’re so tired, what’s been weighing on your mind, but I can’t. I know I can’t. You’re busy so I let you go. I tell you, hope for you, to have a good day before we part ways down the sidewalk. I can’t help the way I think about you for days after something as simple as this happens - thinking about if we ran into each other again. Would it be fate, or coincidence? Passion, or obsession? The thoughts, the questions, roam my mind until I forget your face.