Two Hearts

She opens the doors to the hundreds of hungry eyes. Once they have ran a calculating gaze over the ruffle of short blonde waves down to the thick black boots, they snap their heads back to their own packs of friends. She smacks her lips together, her nervous habit, scanning the faces. A few smiles. Her friends chattering away. One of them beckons her, and she trudges over. Her eyes still scan the remaining faces. Smoothing down her coat as she slumps into a chair, absent minded greetings slip from her lips. Her eyes aren’t on her friend, but they have stopped searching. Midst a sea of bodies, limbs motioning as they cram food into their mouths or cram knowledge into their brains; the great gesticulations of gossip and colliding snippets of conversation, he sits. His eyes lock on to her gaze across the room through the wisps of his dark fringe. The tiny quiver of her lips ushers a thousand words only he can read.

An exchange of flickering glances and telling smiles-a language only known to them- between their dips into conversation with surrounding friends. Buzzing in her mind, the thoughts rise and rise until she cannot hear the meaningless chattering around her. All she wants is to be with him, away from all these bodies-motioning limbs, colliding conversations…

Fingers interlaced, they stand in the cold air. Two warm hearts beating wildly; two bodies slipped out of the crowd. But now, as she stares into the crystal blue eyes, she smiles because she no longer has anything to say.


Today I was watching my friend looking across the room at her boyfriend (who is also my friend). The way they could have their own conversation through a crowd of people, made up of tiny mouth movements and gesture, was fascinating. I think I was the only one that had noticed, and I almost felt like I’d invaded their private moment. Luckily neither of them noticed me.

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