1... 2... 3... 4...5...
Numbers.
They're all I know now. They're all I know since I've started counting down seconds, minutes and hours lounging and pacing back and forth in what has become an 11:30 tradition.
1... 2... 3... 4...5...
I keep waiting for you. My eyes look around for a short glimpse of your glasses or anything that might be a sign that you are here, and that after weeks of waiting, you have finally read my letter.
1... 2... 3... 4...5...
The ticking of the second hand becomes a rhythmic beat like breathing, and I keep walking. I keep walking and searching and praying that today I might be your friend.
1... 2... 3... 4...5...
I stop.
I sigh.
The hours are spiraling down.
A force crashes into me and stops my Converse-clad feet from tirelessly pacing the AS's granite floors. Already prepared to scowl and rant, I bite back the acid-coated words from my tongue as my gaze fell upon the black-brown eyes I have hurt.
"Sam." The name slips out accidentally before I can stop myself, and my heart flutters and my gut wrenches and a dizzy feeling starts taking over my head.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
"You remembered my name." He smirks, and I am captivated by his smile. It's nothing like yours and nowhere near yours, but the look on his face was priceless. Never have I ever seen a look filled with so much hope despite what has already been broken. Never have I ever seen someone else's eyes light up that way as if what was standing in front of them was redemption, was the most precious thing in the world.
1...2...3...4...5
He stands before me, and I tiptoe to take a look behind him at the students prowling the Palma Hall. My eyes scan almost every corner, then I count again for the last time.
The second hand hits 12.
"Can we start all over again?"
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