On the off chance, that she would say yes
he walked up to her.
The smell of cinnamon perfumed his consciousness
the book before him, neglected for the past six
hundred seconds
His mind conceiving a future, a life
after he saw her
Walking to her wasn't easy, talking to her wasn’t easy.
invisible hands gripped him by the neck
holding him prisoner and keeping him from uttering simple words to pretty girls.
Only a special kind of girl,
the kind offering the glimpse of a domesticity,
of a mutual kindness shared that would span decades,
that hope was what got him to talk to her.
On the off chance, that she would say yes,
he went up to her, bespectacled girl,
Ulysses dog-eared before her
As he got closer, his knees started shaking
weaker and weaker
as though he was on the edge of a cliff
gazing into infinity below
Hi he said
Hi she said back
A pregnant moment, when a man's fortunes
hang in the balance,
Say something funny, he told himself.
Say something, he said again.
He choked
blood rising to his cheeks
fire engine red
he left the café
greeted by the bitter cold of November’s embrace
On the off chance, that she would say yes
he had asked her out
and humiliated himself.
November air transformed
tears into snowballs
solidifying his shame.
He was such a loser
when that spark of connection
drew him across the room
he always always fucked it up
Fuck up. Fucked up.
A cool hand on his shoulder.Gloved hand.Small hand.
He turned around. The sides of his gaze shiny.
You left this, she said.
A smile.Crooked teeth.Imperfectly beautiful.
The feel of laughter and the buzz of alcohol on a cold night
He wiped the sides of his face
in a surreptitious attempt to appear cool.
Bewildered he stared at her and this time
he knew what to say.
On the off chance that she would say yes,
he had asked her to marry him
and she did.