The Spotlight Girl

I gave you a look that showed you and me on dates. I placed a chocolate-covered strawberry against your tongue, and you hallowed your cheeks as you took a sultry bite. I gave you the look of us getting married – in the beach like you always wanted. You had your brown hair that has lengthened throughout the years in a loose bun while you breastfed our daughter. Our son was ready to take over the world in a matter of months, and I sat in front of you, my chin against my palm. I watched you.

We’d be sitting in our backyard, and the sun haloed your head, and you’d bask in it. I took a sip of my afternoon coffee as my memories would bring me back to this moment: the sun presenting everyone with your glory as you made your way down the pavement.

You now stood a mere inch before me. Another step forward and you would be behind me. I couldn’t let you go, not after I showed you our future. I knew you wanted it to. The look on your face told me you wanted to ask my name. But you didn’t. I wanted to call out for you, but I didn’t know what to call you by. Was “hey” too comfortable for someone I didn’t know; or was “good day, ma’am” too formal for someone who wasn’t my boss?


I had to say something.
Just say something.
Anything.
A word.
Words…


The rays elongated the more you walked away. I looked back, hoping you would, but you didn’t. There was still a spotlight shining down on you. I kept moving forward, not even hesitating to trail back my steps until we were face-to-face once more. The light was cut when you turned a corner to Love Lane.
The sun receded and hid behind the fast-approaching clouds. The snow started to fall heavier and faster, my vision blurring with the fog forming in my glasses. I increased my pace despite the strings of our future pulling me back. I needed to let go. Let the snow pile until I could no longer see it – for it was nothing but a glimpse.
It was just a glimpse.

Written by: Tristan Stanley