Mind The Footing

He’s here. He’s finally in front of me. He’s here. My kind is stuck on just these thoughts and my mouth is mumbling responses to his questions. For the first time ever I have felt so shy and the fault in not in me that I am shying.

His gaze. It has the warmth of the sun and I feel like I’m in the desert trapped; in an afternoon at Sahara. His gaze burnt me. The tenderness was too much to bear and I am afraid that I will start crying if I hold his gaze for too long.

Our hands. They didn’t allow each other to hold themselves but like kids refuse to leave the other alone too. We aren’t holding our hands but they are brushing against one other as the air around us gets thicker with the excitement of meeting Al for the first time.

I was leading him up to the fourth floor of the mall but it never felt for a single moment that I am taking him somewhere. It was as if our feet were doing their work on their own. And right then, as I led him up the escalator I heard him say something.

“Mind your footing, Angel.”, he said.

I looked below and found me leg too close to the rising escalator and if it was closer, I’d lose my toenail. I shifted my toes a bit behind.

But after that I placed them there again on the next floor, just to hear him say that again.

Mind the footing.

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